


We were strangers for way too long

by tallciaraa



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Reader-Insert, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-26
Packaged: 2021-03-27 05:14:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 31,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30117681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tallciaraa/pseuds/tallciaraa
Summary: (Very) Slow burn between Hotch and Reader - Starting early Season 3 immediately following Gideon's departure - Y/N has just joined the BAU having grown up in London and is immediately attracted to her new boss, Aaron Hotchner, the emotionally unavailable (and newly single) unit chief of the BAU.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner & Reader, Aaron Hotchner & You, Aaron Hotchner/Reader, Aaron Hotchner/You
Comments: 22
Kudos: 65





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing so might be a little rough around the edges! (Also I know season 3 is like 2007 but because I'm an idiot who doesn't consider those kinds of things this universe has uber a few years earlier)
> 
> Most will of this will probably be based in Quantico with the mentions of cases - there will be the odd chapter solely on a case but I'm not too sure how things are going to play out yet so the amount of time you see the team in the field will definitely vary. 
> 
> Title is taken from Joy Division's 'I remember nothing' 
> 
> Also I know the way Y/N gets into the BAU is completely unlikely but we are just going to avoid thinking about it too hard - Enjoy!!

You tried to calm your nerves as the uber pulled up outside Quantico. The driver turned and looked at you expectantly and you realised he was waiting for you to exit the vehicle. You mumbled a quiet "thank you" as you struggled with the door, feeling your cheeks heat up as you embarrassingly fumbled with the handle, hands slick with sweat. 

Slamming the door a little too strongly, you looked up at the imposing building and asked yourself for the hundredth time that day, what exactly did you think you were doing?

Shaking your head at your own insecurity, you spotted a bench a couple of meters away and slinging your bag over your shoulder made your way to it and plopped yourself down. You glanced down at your watch and in true Y/N fashion, you had arrived 20 minutes early. At least this gave you some time to gather yourself and roll a much needed cigarette. You knew it was a bad habit and since arriving in the US you had noticed how fewer people smoked here compared to London but you also knew you needed to calm down and this was a shortcut that you were grateful to have.

As you inhaled and felt the familiar spiraling of the smoke down your throat, you once again questioned yourself as to what had brought you here. Your friends back home had called you crazy for wanting to leave London, and travel halfway across the world for a job that you likely wouldn't get. 

The more you thought about it, the more you feared they were right. 

That being said, you wasn't exactly your average 25 year old. 

You had always hated the term 'genius'. You were undeniably intelligent, more so than most people you'd ever met, but you disliked how the word genius was often reserved for those who excelled academically, often overlooking those who were more artistic or emotionally intelligent. In your case, you managed to cover all three bases but that was besides the point. You never wished to make someone feel belittled just because their talents weren't exactly conventional. You yourself were hardly the epitome of conventional.

Born to an Irish mother and American father, you had lived in and around London your entire life. From a young age you had been labeled 'gifted' but rather than burnout under pressure from adults, your parents had always encouraged you without pushing you, and you had thrived. 

You left sixth form with 5 A*s at A-Level just shy of your 15th birthday and had had no intention of slowing down. Although you had offers to study at Oxford university, you were still underage and not entirely ready to fly the nest just yet. As a result, you enrolled at University College London and by the time you were 18, you had accumulated three undergraduate degrees in English Literature, Anthropology and Psychology. Academia had become your safe space. 

You had a Masters in Human Sciences and Evolution by 19, and at 21 you completed your PhD in Psychology and Human Development, specialising in criminal psychology. It was during your PhD that you first came across the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. 

You would never forget sitting at the back of the lecture hall listening to Jason Gideon's lecture on 'the Footpath Killer'. While you had found yourself drawn to psychology, hell, you were doing a PhD in it, this was the first time you had truly engaged with the way it could be used in real life, beyond that of scientific research or psychiatry. You hung on his every word, practically in a trance, when all of a sudden a fellow student's voice had cut through asking, "So why did he stutter?"

Gideon had only smiled knowingly and replied, "that is for me to know and for you to work out."

As the students began to filter out of the room you made your way down to where Gideon was shuffling papers into his bag.  
"Um, excuse me, Mr Gideon?" You had cringed at yourself in that moment, any confidence you had had in what you were about to say drying up.

Without even looking up he nodded, continuing to pack away his work. "I think I know why 'the Footpath killer' stuttered," you managed to choke out. 

He glanced up in surprise and then sat back against the desk, that knowing smile once again perking up the sides of his mouth. He folded his arms and leaned back, his movement confirming what you had already suspected within minutes of the lecture starting. "Do go on."

"Um well, that is, I don't know, but I suspect neither do you," you can hardly believe you were saying this but now you had started you couldn't stop yourself, "You see, I have looked over this case a number of times, including the profile that the BAU made for the killer, and in all honesty, nothing in the notes on the case or the profile provided give any indication as to why he may have stuttered. When I told you that I knew, your body language suggested to me that anything I could say would be something that you had already considered, and you resigned yourself to feeling amused but ultimately disappointed. That tells me that you do not know why he stuttered, it was a ruse to buy you time."

You had been avoiding his gaze while talking, and was sure your face was bright red in embarrassment. When you finally looked back to him he was smiling once again, but there was something else, a twinkle of excitement in his eye. 

"How old are you? You don't look old enough to be doing a PhD."

You were slightly taken aback at his words but felt reassured that he hadn't just laughed in your face, "I will be 21 next week, I started university a little earlier than most people." 

He cocked his head to the side and continued, "And what are you planning on doing once you have finished here?"

"In all honesty, I have yet to think about it. I have been enrolled in university in some form or another for the last 6 years and I am not entirely sure if I am done with it yet."

He paused for a moment, considering your words carefully before reaching inside his jacket and handing you a small business card. "Should you ever decide to leave the world of academia and find yourself on the other side of the Atlantic, there is a team of people who I think you would excel within." And with that he was gone, leaving you a little shell-shocked and beyond confused. 

While you had thought about your interaction many times over the last couple years, you had never really taken his words seriously. London was your home, UCL your solace, your family and friends never more than a tube ride away. You had done the odd teaching spot, giving lectures here and there but never properly a part of the faculty and as your friends started graduating university and getting on with their lives, Gideon's words had seemed more and more attractive. 

This chain of events, branching years, was what had finally convinced you to apply to the BAU, when a position opened about a month after your 25th birthday. Your dad had helped you apply, with him understanding the American work system far better than you did and while it had seemed incredibly unlikely, you had somehow managed to get an interview at Quantico with SSA Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief. You wondered how Gideon would react to seeing you there, if he would be there at the interview, would he even remember you? 

You reached the end of your cigarette and stubbed it out and took a deep breath in through the nostrils and out through the mouth. You could do this. You had come all the way from London, there was no way you weren't going to give it your all now you were finally here.

Standing up and straightening your skirt you checked your watch again - 10:55. Trying to fake as much confidence as possible you walked up to the building, hoping your legs didn't shake too much. You were about to be surrounded by profilers after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These first couple of chapters are just for setting up the plot and introducing Y/N to the rest of the BAU, it should get a little more exciting soon!

You held your breath as the lift slowed and the doors slowly parted. You felt like an imposter, sure that any second now a hand would clamp down on your shoulder and you would be frog-marched out the building in disgrace. 

Of course no such action came, and the agent who had been taking you up to the BAU inclined his hand, signalling you to leave the elevator. You approached the glass doors of the BAU bullpen and waited for the agent to enter, following behind like a child, you becoming acutely aware of how much younger you seemed to be compared to the agents you had seen flitting around the building. 

As you entered you could feel people's eyes on you but you kept your own glued to ground, the last thing you needed was to be psyched out by the current BAU members whom you could only assume were sizing you up, and no doubt profiling the shit out of you. 

A kind faced blonde woman gently cleared her throat and your eyes snapped up as she offered her hand. 

"I'm Jennifer Jareau, the communications liaison for the BAU. I'm afraid Hotch is still with the previous candidate and I'm going to have to jump the queue to run a couple things by him before your interview if you don't mind waiting?" 

The softness of her voice and her words soothes you and you smile at her taking her hand, hoping yours isn't entirely drenching hers. "No problem at all."

She motioned to you to sit at the empty desk beside you and you sat down, twisting your ring around your index finger nervously. You heard a door opening on the upper level and turned to see a man, perhaps in his mid 30's, exit the room smiling. As Jennifer passed him into the room you realised that this must be one of the other candidates. Seeing your competition leaving the interview so pleased filled you with dread. He was clearly older and more experienced and judging by his face, the interview had gone well. The door to SSA Hotchner's office was closed again and you relaxed back into the chair, knowing you had a few more minutes to prepare.

You glanced around the room, taking in the bullpen properly for the first time. You were surprised by how few people were there, and craned your head around, hoping to spot Gideon, the closest thing you had to a friendly face. He didn't appear to be there but you were already aware that he taught classes around the world and there was always the chance he wouldn't be there. 

Of the people that were present, they had grouped together around a desk, presumably one of the unit members. Two of them had their backs to you, a man and a woman, both of whom you could tell were attractive even from behind. Over the guy's shoulder you could see a younger man, perhaps around your age, speaking with big sweeping hand gestures, clearly invested in whatever he was telling his colleagues. The older man burst out laughing, followed swiftly by the woman, though judging by the younger mans expression, that was not the intended outcome.

Just as your curiosity had been piqued you heard your name called, "Miss Y/L/N?"

Your head flipped around to the voice and up on the balcony stood who you assumed to be Aaron Hotchner. You barely looked at him properly, instead rushing to stand and pick up your bag, your nervous energy making your movements seem jumpy and disorientated, "Yes, yes that's me!" And just as had been the case all those years ago with Gideon you cringed at the sound of your voice, sounding young and girlish in this decidedly mature setting. 

He beckoned you to join him, turning before you had even reached the top of the stairs. "I apologise for the delay, we try and run a tight ship around here but as I'm sure you have gathered, we are currently a member down and the process of filling that role isn't the easiest."

You nod along to his words, all too aware that the rest of the team has turned to watch you. 

You pass into the office and Aaron Hotchner closes the door firmly behind you. He returns to his desk, sitting down, and you do the same across from him. 

It is only now that you give yourself a moment to look at him. You see a man in his thirties? Forties? It's hard to tell. His eyes seem young and yet the face that accompanies them looks tired and weary. Scratch tired. Exhausted. He dressed in a suit and tie, looking far more formal than anyone else in the bullpen but then perhaps that just goes with the job of unit chief. 

He leans back in his chair and observes you with a quiet scrutiny. Before you have a chance to say anything he begins to talk:

"If I am completely honest, I am not sure if this is the role for you. You are clearly well qualified academically but these sort of positions require field experience and are normally given to people already within the Bureau, very rarely people outside of it and as far as I am aware, never from overseas."

You blink at his words pathetically, unsure at first of how to respond. Tentatively you ask, "How then did I manage to secure an interview?" You realise this sounds a little blunt and quickly follow, "I just mean, I wasn't expecting even an interview, and from the sounds of it, you didn't think I should have one. Which given what you've just said I completely understand."

You can feel the heat rising in you cheeks as you try and backpedal from sounding like a stuck up Londoner who thinks she's the shit.

His brow furrows at your words but he doesn't look offended. "Your application was handpicked by a former employee. It seems it was one of the last things he did before he left the Bureau. In truth, I was unaware the position had been posted for applicants until after he had left. It appears he was already trying to sort his replacement and it seemed wrong to not give a chance to the applicant he favoured."

As he is talking, you connect the dots as to whom he is referring. "Gideon has left?" His eyes betray his surprise before his mask of neutrality returns.

"Yes, Jason Gideon is the agent whose position we are trying to fill. May I ask how you were acquainted?" 

You register the sinking feeling of disappointment stirring within you as you try and make your brief interaction sound more interesting than just a few lines of conversation you had shared. 

"He was a guest lecturer at UCL when I was completing my PhD four years ago. He did a lecture on 'the Footpath Killer' and we spoke afterwards. I put my two cents in and he seemed to be entertained by it." You trail off, painfully aware of how inconsequential it seemed now, sitting in Quantico surrounded by the top profiler's in the world. 

At your words, the unit chief's eyes widened and he muttered something under his breath that sounded an awful lot like 'Spencerella'. 

At this point you're wishing the earth would swallow you up and you can practically hear your friends saying "I told you so." They were right, this was a stupid idea.

"As you don't have any field training you will need to stay here to pass your physical and earn your firearm qualification but you can work with Garcia, our tech analyst, to stay in the loop when we are on cases in the meantime."

You do a double take at his words, "I'm sorry what?" If you weren't in shock you'd be embarrassed at your reaction.

"You've got the job."

"Nope, no sorry, what?"

He smiles at your disbelief and you're taken aback by how attractive it makes him. 

"It's a shame that it took Gideon leaving for you to apply. He'd told me many times that one day you would eventually show up and it was a necessity that we hired you."

You're still at a loss for words as he reaches to shake your hand. "Thank you, thank you so much, Sir," and you just about manage to string a couple of words together.

He smiles at you again but this time it makes you blush a little. "Please, call me Hotch."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really struggled writing this one as I'm still getting used to writing dialogue but hopefully it'll improve over time!

You're still a little in shock when you hear Hotch's voice over your shoulder, "Let's introduce you to the team." You grab your bag and follow him out the door, nearly bumping into him in your haste as he stops suddenly on the balcony. 

You hear him curse quietly under his breath before following his eyeline to where a man, presumably another agent, is sat at the desk you had been at previously. Hotch awkwardly clears his throat before addressing the man, "I'd like to thank you for your interest but I'm afraid the role has been filled." The man huffed and stood up, throwing a glare at you before storming out the glass doors and down the corridor.

You hadn't even considered the fact that there would be candidates after you and with your sudden hiring, others wouldn't even get the chance of an interview. You try not to feel too bad - after all, you had flown across the globe to be there and from the looks of things, this guy had come from elsewhere in the building. Still, you were a little embarrassed.

Your eyes flicker to the three agents you had seen before who were all stood, open-mouthed, openly shocked at Hotch's words. As if in sync, their eyes move in unison from Hotch to you, then back to Hotch. They clearly couldn't understand what on earth had occurred in the space of 5 minutes to warrant your hiring and to be honest, you still didn't understand it yourself.

The blonde woman from before reappeared as you and Hotch approached the trio and shot you a warm smile of encouragement. 

"Y/N Y/L/N, I'd like to introduce you to Agent Morgan, Agent Prentiss and Dr. Reid, Y/N will be joining the BAU effective immediately." You tried not to dwell on the incredulous looks being shot your way as Hotch continued, "I understand that this may not be the most orthodox of situations but Gideon believed she would be an asset to the team and so do I."

The older man, Morgan(?), was the first to speak, "Does Strauss know about this?"

"I'm on my way to tell her now and it will give you all the opportunity to get acquainted."

"Good luck with that" you hear someone mutter under their breath and with that, Hotch was gone, striding out the bullpen, leaving you with the four strangers who were still looking at you like you'd just grown a second head right in front of them. 

The silence that had settled is broken through by a woman's voice coming from a way off, "Where is she?! Where is she, I must meet her immediately!" You turn to find the source of the voice and see a woman coming towards you at full speed, well as fuller speed as stillettos can allow, dressed in a myriad of pastel colours with beads in every colour swinging from around her neck. She stops short of you, her eyes lighting up in what can only be described as delight. 

"Ha HA, take that men, you are now outnumbered by goddesses !" She smiles brightly at you, glancing at your outstretched hand before pushing past it to wrap her arms around you - "I'm sorry, I'm a hugger and in all honesty, you looked like you need it!" You smile nervously.

"I'm Penelope Garcia, the tech analyst for the BAU" she drops her voice to a jokey whisper, "the brains of the operation, and you, you tall drink of water are...?"

"I'm Y/N Y/L/N-" you can barely finish your name before Garcia lets out a screech,

"Oh my god you're British, why did no one tell me she was British, Derek you know how much I love the British acc-"

Morgan cuts her off, "Babygirl, we met like 30 seconds ago, you've already said more to her than all of us combined." At that Garcia makes a face at him but takes a step back (although you can still see the excitement in her face.)

Morgan now turns his attentions back to you.

"I'm sorry for staring like an idiot, if I'm honest I don't think I've ever seen Hotch hire someone that quickly. He made this one wait at least a week," he nods to the brunette beside him, earning him an elbow in the ribs. 

You can tell the gesture is playful and you smile, "I mean, full disclosure, I'm not sure why he did, one second he's saying I'm not right for the role and the next he's telling me I've got the job!"

Agent Prentiss returns your smile, "Never try and understand the mind of Hotch, it is as elusive and mysterious as the man himself, blocked from mere mortals like us."

The team all chuckle at her words and you want to pry further into what she means but Dr. Reid speaks before you have the chance.

"I understand that it's just a figure of speech, but you must have said something between those seconds to make him change his mind?"

"Well, I did tell him about the time I met Jason Gideon during my PhD but I still don't understand how it swayed him so quickly."

"Ooh, a PhD, looks like Dr. Reid ain't the only doctor in the house anymore," Morgan chuckles.

Reid ignores him, "Would this have been in London in 2003?"

You try not to look too shocked, "Why yes, he did a guest spot teaching at my uni."

Reid nods knowingly and starts to speak before trailing off. Turning around you see that Hotch has returned and is walking towards you with quite possibly the biggest stack of paperwork you had ever seen in your life. 

"Y/L/N, I'm going to need you to start working your way through this before any of your training can begin. It's all pretty standard stuff but should you come across something you don't understand then you know where to find me." As he passes you the pile his fingers brush against your wrist and you feel a twinge in your stomach. You silently pray to every known entity that your damn cheeks aren't giving you away as they always do as you sit back at the empty desk from before. 

Penelope passes by you on her way out the bullpen and squeezes your shoulder, "Me and the gals are getting drinks after work and you're coming." You nod your head and look back to the mountain of papers in front of you. You inwardly sigh but feel excited at the prospect of going out after this rollercoaster of a morning. It would give you the chance to get to know the women, find out the deal about your apparently infamous meeting with Gideon and lastly, learn a bit more out about the dark handsome stranger that was now your boss.


	4. Chapter 4

It was approaching 7pm by the time you were done with the paperwork Hotch had given you. It had been mind-numbingly boring but you were in no position to complain. 

The rest of the team had had their fair share of work to be getting on with, but as the day had gone on and the likelihood of a case coming in decreased, there was a certain jovial atmosphere to the bullpen, the excitement of a free Friday night setting in. 

Spencer was the first to leave, something about a chess tournament being broadcast that was 'too good to miss' when Morgan tried to convince him out for drinks. He'd given you a small smile as he passed your desk and you had returned it - in the few conversations you had had that day you had registered the enormity of his intellect, his interactions with his colleagues mirroring those you had with your own friends over the years. As much as you disliked the term genius for yourself, you couldn't deny how well it fit Spencer. 

Garcia had entered the bullpen as Spencer was leaving and had made a bee-line straight for you.

"I hope you are ready to party like it's the 31st of December 1999." She laughs at your blank expression before continuing, "It's not often that we plan a girl's night and it actually goes ahead so yes, there will be tequila shots and no, you do not have a choice."

At that moment Morgan sidled up behind Garcia and threw an arm over her shoulder, "What's this I hear about shots?" 

Garcia turned to face him, "I'm afraid that's classified information Chocolate Thunder, it's girl's night and you aren't making the cut."

Emily began approaching the desk, laughing at the way Morgan's shoulders now drooped. "Rules are rules my friend, looks like you're going to have to settle for Anderson and the lonely hearts club."

"I'm not actually a big drinker-" you start to say but Garcia is having none of it.

"We are celebrating , we have a gorgeous new member, a Friday night off for the first time in months and the new bar around the corner is doing 2 for 1 cocktails. It is initiation time and there will be no avoiding it."

Emily smiled at you sympathetically before rolling her eyes, "Well I am certainly not standing in the way of Garcia and a cocktail so can we get going?"

"I'll go get JJ!" And like that, Garcia was rushing out the door. 

"I guess I'll see you lovely ladies on Monday then. Try not to have too much fun without me," Morgan waves his fingers at you over his shoulder before heading towards the lift. 

"I've just got to bring these papers up to Hotch but I'll meet you outside?" Emily nods at you and calls to Derek to hold the elevator. 

Trying to organise the messy pile you make your way up to Hotch's office. Unlike the rest of the team who had been chatting on and off throughout the day, he had only left his office once since returning from his meeting with Strauss and even then it was only to get a cup of coffee. 

You went to knock but heard Hotch's voice on the other side of the door, talking on the phone.

"Can I pick him up this evening? I'll be out of here in an hour and it gives me another night with him instead of just Saturday."

There's a pause and you hear Hotch sigh, "I know he's asleep but I don't get these opportunities very often, you know that, Hayley."

You feel as though you shouldn't be listening to this conversation but you really need to give Hotch these papers before you can leave.

"Yeah okay fine, I'll pick him up tomorrow at 9. No, no I understand I don't want to argue about this either. Right, okay bye."

You wait a moment longer before knocking on the door.

"Come in."

You tentatively open the door to see Hotch leaning against the side of his desk. He had loosened his tie and had clearly been running his hands through his hair as it now fell unevenly over his forehead. 

"I've completed the paperwork", you say, trying to come across a little more professionally than the bumbling idiot from your interview, "And I just wanted to thank you again for giving me this position. I know I'm not what you imagined for the role but I hope to prove to you that I'm worth the risk."

He looks at you for the first time since entering the room and straightens up before sending you a smile that looks a little forced. His mind was clearly still on the phone call. 

"You really didn't need to do all that today. "

"Oh, well, I figured the sooner it's done, the sooner I can actually become part of the team."

"You became part of the team when you got the job. The training and the paperwork is necessary for field work but when it comes to profiling, the skills that you have can't be taught."

You blush a little at his praise, "I don't mean to disagree Sir but-"

"Hotch," he interrupts.

"Sorry Sir, I mean, Hotch, but how can you be so sure that I'm up to the task? I know that I impressed Gideon when I met him but that was just one meeting and surely there were others far more qualified."

"When Gideon came back from London in 2003, he told me about a girl who challenged him on the Footpath Killer's stutter. He said that he'd never had someone see through his bluff that quickly before, and that he'd certainly never seen someone of that age profile him that quickly and that accurately. He was quite amazed and it takes a lot to amaze someone like Gideon. He asked around about you with your teachers, learned a little about your impressive education and was convinced that you had what it took to be a great profiler. The only other person I know who came close to having the same impact on him was Reid."

You thought back to the 'Spencerella' comment and suddenly it made sense. 

"Gideon wanted you on this team. And I'd hate for him to hear me say this but Gideon is very rarely wrong. So when I realised who you were, I knew you had to be on this team." His eyes soften as he regards you.

"It'll be difficult, especially in the beginning, and I will hold you to standards higher than you will ever have experienced, but if you're prepared to work hard then this is the place for you. I believe you can do this. Do you?" 

Something in his eyes makes you trust everything he is saying wholeheartedly. 

"I can do it. I won't let you down."

"NEWBIE!! ARE YOU COMING OR WHAT?" You glance through the blinds to see Garcia standing in the bullpen. As she sees Hotch she turns bright red and ducks out of view.

Hotch lets out a little chuckle and smiles, "Clearly you have a wild night ahead of you. Have a nice evening."

His manner is warm but you hear the dismiss in his words. You nod your head, setting the papers down on the desk.

"I guess I'll see you on Monday then. Bye, Hotch." And with that you turn and hurry down the stairs to where Garcia is waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I have some ideas of certain plot points that I want to cover but any feedback or suggestions are very much welcomed!


	5. Chapter 5

You and Garcia head downstairs and find JJ and Emily waiting patiently on the steps. It was your first time outside since this morning and you were now desperate for a cigarette after that whirl wind of a day.

As you placed the cigarette between your lips and clicked the lighter you could hear the groans of disapproval from the other women. 

"I know, I know, I'm a terrible person, my days are numbered and all that good stuff." JJ smiles at your quip before leaning in to whisper in your ear.

"Wait until Emily is a few drinks in and she'll be begging you for one." You smile back at her, the suggestion seeming so unlikely that you hardly consider it. 

"Right, who is going to come for a smoke with me- whoops, sorry about that," Emily slurs as she attempts to stand without tipping all of her drink over Garcia. 

JJ pulls a face at you and you try not to burst out laughing. "Come on, someone, anyone, the Prentiss train is leaving the station so get on or get fucked."

JJ stands, linking her arm with Emily's as she grabs the pack of now communal tobacco off of the sticky bar table. "We will be back soon-ish, depends on whether she is sick or not."

You and Garcia laugh as Emily rolls her eyes in an overly-dramatic fashion. "Who are you, my _mom?"_

"Have fun.. oh and be safe!"

"It's okay Pen, we'll just be outside."

At this point Emily clearly couldn't be bothered to wait any longer, stumbling off into the crowd causing JJ to rush after her.

Penelope turned to you, "So, how was your first day? I'm dying to know what you think of everyone!"

You smile at the eagerness in her voice. "Well, I still can't quite believe I'm here. I was so sure I wasn't going to get the job, I was practically treating this like a holiday. I even have my flight booked home for Tuesday morning!"

"Do you think you'll miss it?"

"London? Definitely. I've spent my whole life there." You pause to take a sip of your drink though you're not entirely sure what you're drinking, "That being said, it's good to have a fresh start away from- Well, it's just good to have a fresh start."

You hoped that Garcia was too tipsy to notice your slip up but she jumped on it instantly.

"Family or ex?"

You try your hardest not to choke. "Um, no, I love my family I'll miss them very much, I already do."

"Aha, so it is an ex- boyfriend," she stops herself for a second before raising an eyebrow at you, "girlfriend?"

"Boyfriend." She nods sympathetically before you continue, "I've always stayed friends with my ex-girlfriends." You wink at her jokily and she in return bats her eyelashes. 

"I spent all of my teen years focused on studying that I didn't really notice people in _that_ sort of way until I was twenty and slowing down a bit. Then I guess I got a bit ahead of myself and dated loads of people, guys, girls, whomever I was interested in at that moment in time but that was only for a few months."

Garcia looked at you expectantly so you carried on,

"When I was finishing up my PhD I met this guy who had been on my course but we'd never really spoken. Apparently he'd been interested in me for a while and was just waiting to make his move. He was a bit older which I liked," you blushed but the dimmed lights of the bar shielded your cheeks, "and I don't know, I guess I kind of got swept up in it. In him. We were together for nearly 3 years."

"And then?"

You snap back to the reality of the situation and realise that you're not really comfortable sharing this with someone you've known for 12 hours. You like Garcia, a lot. You just aren't ready to reveal this part of your life just yet.

"And then nothing. We broke up but we both still spent a lot of time around UCL and Bloomsbury so we ran into each other all the time. It's kind of difficult to get over a break up when you keep running into the face you're trying to forget." You clear your throat, desperate to not get upset over _him_. "Anyway, that's the past and I am more than ready to leave it behind me."

"Cheers to that my friend" and Garcia clinks her drink with yours. 

"What about you? Are you and Morgan...?"

"Pfft, no no no! I mean I am his Babygirl and he is my Chocolate Thunder, but it's purely platonic. I'm sure he'll get over me one day." She giggles and you can't help but join in. She radiates positivity and it's completely infectious.

"I hope the Boss man wasn't too scary in your interview. He's a big softie really. At least that's what I tell myself. Not sure that that is the general consensus."

"Softie-smoftie," you hear Emily before you see her, "Hotch is Mr FBI man, I can count on one hand the amount of times I've seen him smile since I joined." She holds out both hands, her thoughts and actions showing the lag you'd expect following 4 cocktails and who knows how many shots.

She slides into the seat next to you and JJ takes the remaining chair. Her eyes are slightly glazed and you wonder if Emily managed to convince her to have another drink while they were passing the bar. 

"I think he was kind of nice actually."

"He is nice," JJ is quick to agree, "he just has a lot going on and he takes his job really seriously. Since Gideon left he has like double the workload. I'm half convinced he sleeps in his office some nights."

"It's not like he has to be rushing home anymore." Garcia's eyes widen as she realises what she's said.

The women all share an awkward look and if you had been sober you wouldn't have dared asking but the alcohol spurred you on and you couldn't seem to help yourself, "What do you mean?"

There's a pause before Emily pipes up, "I mean it's not like it's a secret really," to no one in particular before turning to you, "Hotch and his wife split up like a month ago. And it wasn't a mutual decision."

"Ah." That explains the phone call then. 

"You never know though, they've been together since High School and they have a baby boy so they might get back together," Garcia says brightly. 

JJ looks a little more dubious, "Somehow, I don't see that happening."

The music changes and Emily is suddenly on her feet, demanding that we all dance.

She pulls on your hand but you shake your head laughing, public dancing was something you tried to avoid at all costs and it would require a lot more alcohol before you were prepared to consider it. Instead you remain in your seat and cheer on the three women as they head down to the dancefloor, holding hands. You can already feel yourself getting comfortable around them and you can't quite believe how lucky you are to be working with them. 

Now with a moment to yourself, you run over the conversation about Hotch in your head. Newly separated with a baby son is a whole lot of baggage. Wait a second, why are you even thinking about baggage? It's not like you can have a crush on him already.

This is ridiculous. You're not even a full day on the job yet, you really cannot afford to be pining over an emotionally unavailable man, especially when that man is your Boss. 

And yet JJ's reaction to Garcia's suggestion of a reconciliation is sticking- _Somehow, I don't see that happening._ It brings you a strange sense of comfort _._

This is not going to end well. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! 
> 
> I promise the story is going to pick up a bit from now, I didn't intend on spending 5 chapters on one day but it just happened!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of a filler chapter I guess? Sort of setting up for one of the plotlines. Hope you enjoy!

You awoke to the sound of your phone buzzing against the bedside table and it took you a moment to get your bearings. Waking in the unfamiliar hotel room on Saturday morning you were half convinced it had all been a dream.

You slung your arm out the bed and reached for your phone, checking the display before lifting it to your ear.

"Hi Mum."

"Y/N! We've been trying to call you for an hour!"

"I'm sorry, I had a late night, I was going to call you as soon as I woke up."

There's a pause and you can tell your mother is trying hard not to ask the question.

"And yes I got the job." You hold the phone away from your ear as your mother half screams down the phone at you.

"Oh, Y/N, that's brilliant! Wait one second I'll go and get your dad."

You smile to yourself as you hear her yelling for your dad.

"Honey, that's amazing, we are so proud of you, we knew you could do it," your dad's voice fills your ear, only marginally less hysterical than your mum.

"The thing is I've got to find a place to rent and quickly, I want to feel a little settled before things get too hectic."

"Well, about that..."

"What?" You struggle to stifle the oncoming yawn.

"We may have already sorted you a place."

"You what?"

"We thought it best that should you get the job, you shouldn't have to be worrying about finding an apartment, at least not right away. We spoke to a realtor and found you a small place, one bedroom, nothing fancy, but it would give you your own space to have some kind of home base while you find a neighbourhood you like yourself. We don't mean to step on your toes, Honey, and it's only a short term lease but we thought it better to be overprepared than under. Even if you hadn't have gotten the job you deserved to have a bit of a breather before coming home."

"I can't believe you managed to hide that from me," you smile to yourself, your parents were hardly masters of deception. 

Your mum now took back the phone, "It's just to make the transition smoother for you and while we've paid the first months rent, the rest is up to you, kiddo."

"I don't know what to say."

_A thank-you would be nice,_ you hear your dad say in the background.

You laugh, "obviously thank you, but really I don't know what to think, I feel like my head hasn't stopped spinning since yesterday morning," no doubt last night's drinking wasn't helping the situation.

"The reason we were calling so much is because you have to go meet the realtor to pick up the keys at 12:30."

You glance at the clock on your bedside table - 11:24 - enough time to shower and pack up the few belongings you had with you. 

"She claims it's a nice area, the apartment comes furnished and it's not too far from Quantico so you shouldn't have any issue getting in to work."

"I still can't believe you did this... but I am so so grateful."

"That's okay Sweetie, you've more than earned it. As it happens, we're actually on our way out to dinner but we'll call before we go to bed to see how you're settling in." Ah, of course, time zones.

"Okay, well thank you so much, love you." 

"We love you too Y/N, okay now, bye-bye."

Sitting up properly you throw the phone down beside you and look towards the window where the sun is filtering through the gaps in the curtain. You feel the excitement start to bubble up within you and you can't help yourself from grinning like an idiot. Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed you make your way to the en-suite, bouncing a little with every step. 

Your parents had been right about the apartment. It was small but functional, and more than enough for just you. The realtor had shown you around and it had only taken you an hour to pack away your few possessions and shift the furniture to your liking. 

The main thing you wanted to get done was stock the kitchen, you knew how unbearable you could be on an empty stomach and your body was crying for a decent coffee after the poor excuse that was offered in your hotel room. 

There was a supermarket, or 'grocery store' as everyone seemed to call it, just around the corner and you headed there as the sun was setting. You picked up all the essentials, as well as the biggest container of coffee you could find, enough pasta to feed a small army and no less than 4 jars of pesto. It's not that you couldn't cook, but pesto pasta was all you had lived off of at university and it was your comfort food. 

Heading out of the store, the goods stacked precariously in your arms, you cursed yourself for not bringing some bags with handles with you, forgetting how here the grocery bags were essentially glorified paper lunch bags. 

You struggled up to the door of your apartment building only to realise the key was in your back pocket and pretty much unattainable while holding the groceries.

You reach down to place them on the ground but the paper bag splits, sending various food items spilling on to the porch of the building.

"Oh for fucks sake man, are you kidding me!"

"Y/N?"

You whip around and find yourself face to face with none other than Aaron Hotchner. 

"Oh, hah, h-hi Hotch," you can feel your face turning bright red as he regards you with curious eyes, "Definitely wasn't just swearing at the air, nope, not me." You run your hand across your face, brushing your hair out of your eyes. "So, what are you doing here?"

His confused stare doesn't falter, "I live here, what are you doing here?"

Well shit. 


	7. Chapter 7

"So, how long have you lived here?" You pass a mug of black coffee to Hotch who is now perched on a stool in your small kitchenette.

After getting over the initial awkwardness of realising you had unknowingly moved into the apartment below your boss, he had helped you carry your shopping up to your door and in a burst of confidence you'd asked him if he wanted to come in for a coffee.

He cleared his throat before answering, "Only a couple of weeks. The plan isn't to stay here permanently, it's just a temporary thing."

You consider the conversation you'd had with the women in the bar and try your best not to raise an eyebrow at his insinuation.

"What about you, how did you find a place so fast?"

It was now your turn to be a little embarrassed, "Well, technically my parents found this place for me," not wanting to sound like a kid who relied on their parents you rush on, "but I guess like you it's only temporary. It gives me the chance to settle in to the area before I decide on a place I like. A couple of days in that hotel was enough to drive me insane."

Hotch smiled, "You'd better get used to that, most of the job is spent in crappy hotel rooms."

"That would make sense." You pause, not entirely sure what to say next. You'd only known Hotch a day and hadn't spoken to him for more that 10 minutes. The strangeness of the situation you found yourselves in was growing more apparent by the second.

It was Hotch who broke the silence. "So what made you want to apply to a job like this, especially when it's so far away from home?"

You take a moment to think before answering, "I love people."

"You love people?"

"Yeah."

"I wouldn't have thought this was the kind of job for a person who loves people."

"What I mean to say is- I love understanding people. Their behaviours, their personalities, what it is about them that makes them, well, them." You pause again, trying to find the right words to describe what you mean.

"When I was growing up, I was always the smartest person in the room. And being like that, I was rarely around people my own age. In school I was always in classes with people years older, I had three degrees before I was a legal adult, I spent most of my childhood around people who didn't take me seriously because of my age. While they were underestimating me, overlooking me because they saw me as inferior, I was observing them."

You glance up to meet Hotch's eyes and he was watching you intently, taking in your words with sincerity.

Looking back down to the floor you continue, "People give away a lot about themselves when they think no one is looking. People bear scars throughout their life that they think are unperceivable. And I- I want to see it," you stop, correcting yourself, "At least, I've taught myself to notice it. To try and understand them. To take that time that very few people ever took to understand me. I know that the crimes that this team investigates are of the most heinous nature- and yet I don't think that makes the people who commit them monsters. But I do want to understand what happened to them to make them capable of monstrosity. Because I think deep down, we are all capable of unspeakable things." You let out a breath you didn't think you'd been holding, "Saying that out-loud, it sounds far more stupid than it does in my head."

"No. It really doesn't."

You can hardly bear to meet his gaze but you will yourself to. His eyes bore into yours and you can't quite place the emotion you register in them. 

"I think even without Gideon... if you'd had said that in your interview, you would have gotten the job."

Your breath catches in your throat and you try not to let out a gasp. Lowering your eyes again you reply, "Well thank-you sir, that means a lot to me."

Silence fills the small space again but this time it isn't awkwardness that fills the air, it's something different, some kind of tension. 

Hotch takes one last drink from the mug before setting it down on the counter and getting to his feet.

"I should get going, I've been with my son all day and I have some work to catch up on."

"No, yeah, of course."

"I'll have Garcia email you over an itinerary for your training schedule, you have a lot to catch up on before you can join us in the field."

"Oh, I can imagine, I've never even held a gun before, let alone fired one."

"Well, you know, should you need any help with that, I've been known to give a few pointers to members of the team struggling with their firearms qualification." He doesn't say it but you can imagine that Reid probably fell into that category. 

"Yeah, that would be great!" You say a little too enthusiastically. "I mean, should I need it, but I might not, I might be a natural, who knows?"

He smiles at your rambling as he opens the door to the apartment.

"I'm glad we had this conversation, Y/N. And I'm glad you're on the team."

Before you even have the chance to reply he's gone, the door quietly clicking shut. 

You walk back to the counter, picking up his mug and placing it in the sink. Your hands grip the sides of the basin as you notice the speed at which your heart is beating. You take a deep breath in and try and steady yourself. After all, it was a normal conversation between colleagues. Completely professional. 

Your heart-rate seemed to disagree though. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this little conversation! A lot is going to happen in the next few chapters so buckle up!! Any comments/thoughts/ suggestions would be greatly appreciated!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I'm going to have to ask that you guys just overlook the complete improbability of y/n's position in the BAU and just ignore the fact that fbi agents training is so much more complex that what i've watered it down to.
> 
> (Also I know nothing about guns or firing guns so that little bit is probably wildly inaccurate but again we're just gonna ignore that.)
> 
> I should probably also mention that I write essentially to destress so i just sort of sit and write for an hour, don't really edit it because that in itself stresses me out lol and hope for the best and I'm super stressed atm hence all the short chapters in quick succession. I apologise for being a chaotic mess. Nevertheless I hope you enjoy!!

The next month flew by in a blur. You hadn't really considered how much you needed to learn before you could become a fully functioning member of the BAU but you were pushing yourself hard to get the training done and get out in to the field. You had cleared the background check, the drug and polygraph tests and your physical had been approved last week. The last obstacle was your firearm examination and it was scheduled for 4 days time. Nearly there. 

BAU royalty David Rossi had returned to the Bureau and while you hadn't seen much of him, you heard from Penelope that he wasn't ruffling too many feathers. Living in the same building as Hotch hadn't proved too problematic as you were both so busy you hardly ever ran into each other except at work. The team had flown to Texas and then Montana and yesterday they had headed to Florida, where a serial killer appeared to be eating young women as some kind of satanic ritual. 

Today you were heading in to the BAU offices to see if you could be of any help to Penelope. She was definitely your closest friend at this point and you had spent more time with her than anyone.

You balanced a coffee cup on top of another as you tried to open the door to her den one handed without spilling them. As you were opening the door, Penelope's voice could be heard, "Hey, Derek, you want snappy? You suck!"

"Woah, Pen, what was that all about?"

She swiveled her chair around to face you in one fluid motion before letting out a loud groan.

"Just men being their idiotic selves. Honestly, would it kill them to try a little sensitivity once in a while?"

"I come bearing gifts of coffee it that'd help at all?"

Her eyes lit up, "You angel, what'll I do without you when you're out in the real world?"

You smile fondly at her, "You'll be glad to have me out from under your feet, trust me." You glance over the screens that light the small room, "Any updates?"

"Looks like our cannibal has been a very busy boy. All 10 fingers recovered came from different women."

You grimace and try not to wrinkle your nose, "Delightful. Anything I can do to help?"

"Honestly love, I think we've got it covered. Anyway, shouldn't you be preparing for a certain firearms test?" You huff at her raised eyebrows.

"A little procrastination never hurt anyone. Especially if that procrastination helps to take down a cannibalistic serial killer Satanist."

She takes a sip from her coffee as she turns her chair back to the computers, "Nice try Y/N but you are not going to fall at the last hurdle because you were helping me, I will not have that on my conscience so I must bid you good-day... and thanks for the coffee!"

You can't help but smile at her words, "Well, it was worth a shot. I'll catch you later, Pen."

TWO DAYS LATER

You had decided that a last minute practice at the firing range was necessary with your exam just around the corner. You knew the team had flown back that afternoon and you headed up to the bullpen on your way to the range. You didn't really expect to see anyone but you thought you'd pop your head in in case someone was around to say hi. 

You pushed open the glass doors and found the lower level empty but saw the light on in Hotch's office through the blinds. You thought about going and knocking on the door but decided against it, not wishing to disturb him. As you were about to leave the door opened and Hotch appeared.

"Y/N?" 

You'd noticed that despite calling everyone by their last names, he never seemed to do it for you. You'd always put it down to not being an official agent yet but it still warmed you a little to hear it. 

"Hey, Hotch. I was on my way to the range but I heard you guys got back today so I thought I'd swing by."

"You just missed them I'm afraid. JJ might be around but I'm not sure where."

There was a pause and you could feel yourself stalling for time. You had tried to ignore the little signs but now stood here you couldn't deny how attractive you found him and it was difficult to look away. 

"Was there something you wanted?"

You blinked at his question before coming back down to earth with a bump, "Uh, no, no. I'm ha- I guess I'm just trying to delay having to go practice." _Smooth_.

"You never took me up on that offer, you know."

Oh you knew. 

"I didn't want to bother you with something so trivial. You have enough on your plate without trying to make a marksman of a mediocre shot." Mediocre was putting it kindly.

"Nonsense. I wouldn't have offered if I didn't want to." Don't read into it, don't read into it. "You say you're heading to practice now?" He checked his watch, "I can join you for half an hour if you think it would be of use."

The likelihood of you being able to aim accurately under the watchful eyes of Hotch was near to zero but you just can't help yourself. "Well if it's not too much trouble then yeah, I think it would be really helpful." Idiot. 

"I need to sign a couple papers but I'll meet you down there in 10."

The more you though about it, the more idiotic this seemed. It didn't help that you looked like a complete fool with the safety goggles and ear mufflers.

As you fired another shot into the wall beside the target, Hotch let out a small chuckle.

"I never thought I'd say this, but I think you're a worse shot than Reid." 

You place the gun down on the tray and step away from the shooting window. "You know, anytime you want to say something helpful, by all means, throw it in there." 

"You're overthinking it."

You speak without thinking, "That's easy for you to say, Mr Sharpshooter." As the words are leaving your mouth you instantly regret them and spin round, eyes wide with apology, but Hotch's own eyes twinkle with amusement.

"You're overthinking it," he repeats moving closer to stand beside you, "let's try this again."

He's standing close enough that you can smell his cologne. It smells musky and heady, it suits him perfectly. 

Focus!

"Pick up the gun." His tone is calm and commanding and you scramble to grab the gun up from the tray.

"Now you need to relax your shoulders, you're far too tense and it'll make it harder to aim."

You feel a slight pressure on your shoulder and realise that he has lightly placed a hand on it, stopping it from rising up.

"But don't let your arms drop, you need them straighter to help with the recoil." His other hand is now pressing at your elbow, gently directing it upwards. You try not to hold your breath, all too aware of how close he is, how intoxicating he smells, how warm his hands are.

Focus!

"Now, don't 'pull' the trigger, squeeze it gently, feel the tension in it." You could feel the tension alright.

"When you think you've lined up the shot, take it." 

You steady yourself and try your very hardest to focus on the target. The only sounds that fill the silence are of yours and Hotch's breathing.

_RING RING_

Hotch drops his arms and pulls away from you to reach for his suit jacket where it is hanging on the wall. He fishes out his phone and pulls down the ear mufflers before raising it to his ear.

"Hotchner." 

You put the gun back down and try to ignore the sudden sweatiness of your palms. Turning around you notice that Hotch's face has paled and you worry if his son has had an accident.

"Which hospital? Right, okay, I'll inform the team and I'll get there as soon as I can."

He hangs up and grabs his jacket, hurriedly pushing his arms into the sleeves.

"We need to go. Now." His voice is low and serious and it fills you with dread.

"What's happened?"

His voice breaks a little as he replies. "It's Garcia. She's been shot." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much for reading - I write to destress and i don't really expect anyone to read it but it makes me so happy that people are and are seeming to enjoy it! Any comments/ thoughts/ suggestions are greatly welcomed and encouraged


	9. Chapter 9

"I don't care about protocol, I don't care whether we're working this officially or not. We don't touch any new cases until we find out who did this." 

So often the face of neutrality and professionalism, you could tell how close Hotch was to losing his cool. You had understood that there was a certain bond between the members of the BAU but seeing them all now in the small hospital waiting room, worry and anger etched over their faces, you saw them for the first time as what they truly are - a family. 

A family who had very nearly lost the best of them.

You feel out of place. You don't have the same shared history with Penelope that all the rest of the team do. It's almost as if you shouldn't be allowed to get as upset. And yet you are digging your nails into the palm of your hand, trying to move your focus, trying your very hardest not to cry. 

The hours tick by at a mercilessly slow pace and although she's out of surgery, she hasn't woken up yet. You head down the hallway to get a coffee as you can barely keep your eyes open. There's a short queue for the vending machine and you shuffle your weight from foot to foot, feeling that kind of restlessness that comes with being past exhaustion.

When you finally return, you find the waiting room empty. A passing nurse tells you that the team has headed to her room, that Pen is finally awake.

You slink in to the back of the room, feeling that same displacement, as though you don't have a right to be here. 

Reid is asking questions, "Did he threaten you? Did he want something?"

"I just thought he liked me."

In that instant you feel a tear run down your cheek. Sweet, hopeful, joyful Garcia. How your heart broke for her in that moment. 

You feel your phone buzzing in your pocket and you quietly excuse yourself from the room. 

Wiping your face with your sleeve you answer the phone, "Hello?"

"Y/N? It's Hotch."

You try not to sniffle too loudly, "Hi. Um, Garcia just woke up so the rest of the team are in there with her, that's why they're not answering their phones."

"I didn't try and call them, I need to talk to you." 

"Is there something you need me to do?"

"It's more what you can't do. Y/N, I know you've gotten close with Garcia, that's why I took you to the hospital but you can't be involved in this. You still aren't qualified and you can't work on this with us."

You don't know how to respond and Hotch continues.

"I called Strauss to try and get your exam moved back a week given everything going on but she denied that request. You've still got your firearms examination tomorrow at 9am and once you've said goodbye to Garcia I'm going to need you to go home and try and focus on that."

This was ridiculous. You start to argue with him but he cuts you off, "Nothing you can say will change the fact. Just go home. That's an order. I know it's not easy but that it's not up for debate."

You hear the line click and he's gone. Your rational mind knows that Hotch's words make sense but it doesn't stop the growing feeling of anger. You glance back at Garcia's room where JJ is now sat on the edge of her bed, holding her hand.

You don't want to interfere so you just leave. You leave and you try to ignore how much it hurts to walk away. You vow to yourself that this would be the first and last time you had to. 

5 DAYS LATER

"Is JJ okay though?" 

"Shaken up but I think she'll be okay."

"I wish I could have been there, I've felt like a complete liability."

Penelope tuts down the phone at you, "It's not like you had a choice. Besides, now you've got your firearms thingy done you can take down the next guy."

"There won't be a next guy, Pen, you are never going on another date without a chaperone ever again."

She outright laughs at that. "I'm pretty sure Derek said the same thing about fifty times."

"Maybe you should just swear off men for the near future."

"Well, about that, there's this tech guy, Ke-" The sound broke off into static. 

"Pen? Garcia, can you hear me?"

"Y/N? Hel-"

Damn cell reception. Always dipping in and out when you needed it most. 

"Pen, I don't know if you can hear me but I'm gonna go outside and call you back."

You grabbed your pouch of tobacco and threw a jacket around your shoulders before heading down to the bench outside your apartment building. There was a row of bushes outside that shielded the bench from the view of the door and you sat down, holding the phone to your ear with your shoulder as you rolled a cigarette. 

"Pen, is that better?"

You can hear the doorbell going in the background and Penelope stammered a quick response, "I'm sorry my lovely but I'm going to have to go, I've got uh, um, company."

"Oh, okay, no worries. Text me if you need anything." You weren't sure who could be going round that she wouldn't feel comfortable saying but you were sure she'd tell you about it tomorrow.

Putting the phone down, you lit your cigarette and inhaled deeply. A slight movement in the street caught your eye and you glanced up to see a car with someone sat inside it, parked across from the building. 

The movement came from the window being quickly rolled up. You couldn't make out who was in the car because of the tinted windows but as you squinted in the darkness to try and make them out, they sharply pulled away, driving off down the street. 

You didn't have long to dwell on it as you heard the door to your building opening, accompanied by the voices of a man and woman, speaking hastily in hushed whispers so as not to attract attention.

"This was a mistake, Aaron."

"A mistake?!" The man's voice suddenly raised and you recognised it as Hotch's.

"Yes, a mistake. I shouldn't have come here."

"How can you say that, Haley?" Haley. You quickly connected the dots and realised the woman's voice belonged to Hotch's wife.

"Since when was it a mistake to sleep with your own husband?" You could hardly believe what you were hearing but you couldn't make your presence known now, it would be too awkward. Instead you pressed yourself against the back of the bench, grateful for the coverage of the bushes and prayed that neither of them would see you.

"Aaron, you were upset about your colleague and I wanted to be there for you but we got carried away. This can't happen again."

"Haley please, this is insanity. I love you, you love me, we can make this work!"

"Just stop! How long have I been here, two hours? An hour and a half? And already work is calling you with a new case. I can't do this anymore. I won't do it."

Hotch sounds exasperated, "The job hasn't changed Haley. And neither have I."

"No you haven't. But I have." There was a pause. "I think... I think I want a divorce, Aaron."

"What?" 

She doesn't answer him and instead walks down the steps, past the bushes and you hold your breath, hoping she doesn't look back and spot you. 

"Haley, wait, we need to talk about this." As he's speaking his phone starts to ring in his pocket and he sighs before answering it. 

Haley is now getting into her car and without giving Hotch a second look, drives off. 

"Yeah, JJ, I know, I'll be in as soon as I can." 

You wait for him to go back into the building but he lingers on the steps.

Then your own phone starts ringing. Shit.

You silently curse as you pick up. "Hi JJ. Right. Yeah, okay, I'll make my way in now."

As you hang up you're faced with Hotch who has now rounded the stairs and is standing at the other end of the bench. A look of discomfort passes across his face as he observes the half smoked cigarette in your hand and realises that you've just overheard the argument. 

You're not entirely sure what to say, nothing seems appropriate. 

"We've got a case." Hotch states the obvious.

"Yeah, JJ just called me." You also state the obvious. 

You both look at each other for a moment, daring the other to mention the elephant in the room. Or the Haley on the steps. 

The awkwardness is building as the seconds pass. You break first.

"So... Shouldn't we get going or?" You trail off. This should be your first case but you doubt Hotch is thrilled with the idea of sitting on a jet with you now, knowing what you've just heard, aware of the fact he's just slept with his wife and she's backhanded him with the prospect of divorce.

His eyes hit the floor and he clears his throat, "Yes, you're right."

He looks like he's about to say something but changes his mind, instead abruptly turning down to the street and heading for his SUV. 

You know realistically that you need to go back to your apartment and sort a bag but you're still a bit taken aback when Hotch drives away. It's not that you'd expect him to give you a lift but surely under the time constraints that the cases have, it wouldn't have been that weird for you to drive in together for convenience sake. 

You try and shake off the strangeness of what's just happened as you run up the steps of the building, dialing for a cab as you go. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of knew when I came up with this that I wanted to have a moment where hotch and haley (briefly) reunite to elongate the pining. I guess I want to show Hotch from when he's broken hearted, to viewing Y/N as a friend, to actually viewing them romantically, all while y/n is pining for him. Like I said right at the beginning this is a very slow burn. I also mentioned at the beginning that I'm not too good on the writing about actual cases so they'll be mentioned but I find it quite difficult to try and slot in where y/n would fit into the existing cases if that makes sense. For example, I thought about giving them the shot that JJ takes against Garcia's shooter but i didn't want to take that from JJ and I also thought it would make it too similar to when Reid shoots the guy in the hospital. While I might put in a bit about cases, the main focus is on the characters themselves, and Y/N's past is going to become more important in the upcoming chapters so there will be more about that too.   
> As ever, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so much work to do but I'd rather be writing this so here's another chapter lol

Your first case took you to LA, where what appeared to have been serial gang killings were in fact the result of one man in a PTSD fuelled psychotic break. The unsub was Jonny McHale, a graphic novelist, you had even seen his work in the past back home.

The case brought back the conversation you'd had with Hotch in your kitchen. McHale was never on some ordained path to villainy. Him and his fiancé were in the wrong place at the wrong time. What came after was his mind's way of coping. The beast it unleashed a mere bi-product of the tragedy he had already gone through. Hearing what the gang had done to his girlfriend you could hardly blame him. 

You could hear Emily and Rossi talking about it on the jet home.

"Life is a hell of a thing to happen to a person." Too right.

Your eyes wandered over to where Hotch was sitting alone. He wasn't doing anything in particular, just staring into space but you could practically hear his mind whirring from where you were sat. 

There had been an underlying uneasiness in your exchanges during the case, and you knew that Hotch was uncomfortable with what you'd overheard. You really didn't want what happened to have an effect on your professional relationship so you took it upon yourself to alleviate any residual self-consciousness on his part. 

You looked around the jet. Rossi and Emily were still deep in conversation, Reid's nose was burrowed in a book and you could hear JJ and Morgan quietly joking around in the jet's small kitchen area. 

You got up and plonked yourself down in the seat opposite Hotch before you could change your mind.

Your sudden appearance snapped him out of his thoughts and he regarded you quickly before shuffling through the random papers littered over the table, clearly wishing to avoid having to speak.

You ignore the message he's trying to send. "So.. How did I do on my first case?" You're voice is a little too bright and familiar but you figured it was the best course of action.

Hotch looks a little surprised at your question and puts the papers down before leaning back in his seat, looking at you properly for the first time since you'd sat down. 

"Well, I think you did well. Though I think you would have done better if you didn't second guess all your instincts."

"What do you mean?"

"You told me before that you spent a lot of your life being overlooked and so you learnt to observe people from the shadows. I think you're struggling with actually stepping out and giving those observations now when others are listening."

You hate to admit it but you think he's right. You had been holding back because you were scared of being wrong.

"This team works because we all respect what one another does. Trust your instincts and so will we."

You nod, "I'm sorry. I just- I really don't want to mess up."

His face relaxes a little and there's a glimmer of a smile dancing round the corners of his mouth. "You have to actually input something to risk that."

"Excuse me!" You say in mock outrage, "I definitely said something at some point, I couldn't tell you exactly when or where it occurred but you'll have to _trust_ that I did." You hope that doesn't come across as flirtatiously as it sounded.

Hotch lets out a proper smile, and you're pretty sure it's the first time he's smiled since the night you left. "Well in future, try and say it when someone's listening." 

Your facade breaks and you smile back as you stand to return to your seat, "Yes, Sir."

On the next case you really push yourself to voice your opinions. After talking with Charlie Wilkinson's wife, you made the connection between the position she was in and the position his mother had been in over two decades earlier. You could sense the strength of her maternal instincts and you rushed to stop her before she took justice into her own hands. 

The team had been too late and but Rossi had commended you on drawing the parallels between the two women's pattern of thinking. Chrissy killed her husband before he could be charged with the kidnap, rape and murder of two women. She had removed a threat to society and yet she was the one taken away in handcuffs. While the lives of Molly McCarthy and Tara Ricker had been saved, there was still a feeling of deflation among the team. 

After arriving back in Quantico, Morgan tried to lift everyone's spirits:

"Who's up for a drink?"

Emily was the first to respond, "Ooh, who's up for 5?"

"Count me in," quipped Rossi.

As expected, Reid was more hesitant, "I don't know-"

"Stop with the 'I don't know', you're in, kid." Morgan shut him down immediately before turning to JJ.

"I'd love to but I'm going to have to take a raincheck."

Morgan's eyes slid to you and you put on your most apologetic voice possible, "Not tonight, I'm still not too used to the travel and my bed is calling for me. Next time though."

Rossi took over convincing duties, heading after Hotch who was looking for a quick getaway, "Hotch, you up for a beer?"

Hotch took a deep breath, clearly weighing up the pros and cons quickly in his head before agreeing, "Sure."

You passed by them, throwing goodbyes to whoever was listening, stepping to the side to allow two men you didn't recognise to enter the bullpen. 

"Agent Hotchner?" The first man spoke.

"Yes?" 

The man wordlessly handed Hotch an envelope and held up a clipboard for him to sign.

Emily asked what we were all thinking, "What is it?"

Hotch signed the document, his brow furrowing as he spoke, avoiding eye contact with everyone. "Haley's filing for divorce. I've been served."

He strode off towards the elevator, his agreeing to a drink forgotten.

You all stared after him, no one saying anything. You knew that Haley told Hotch she was thinking about divorce and everyone knew that they had been living apart but judging by the expressions of those around you, it was still a shock.

It was more than an hour before you got back to your apartment building. You had called a cab almost immediately after Hotch had left but with rush hour traffic, it had taken far longer than usual to get home. As was now your routine when coming home from work, you head to sit on the bench in the bushes to have a cigarette.

What you hadn't been expecting was to find an Aaron Hotchner sat where you normally would, the envelope of divorce documents on the bench beside him. 

He sensed your presence and sat up suddenly, his eyes looking a little red as if he had been crying. 

You shot him a quick smile before continuing up to the steps. He clearly wanted to be alone.

"Don't run away on my account." You look back over your shoulder to where Hotch is still sat.

"I'm not running, I'm just tired," you try and reason.

He nods his head to the pre-rolled cigarette between your fingers. "Clearly." You blush, though not entirely a lie, you had obviously intended on smoking first.

Hotch continues to speak, taking you by surprise. "You have a cigarette everyday when you get back from Quantico. You don't smoke when we're on cases but once they're over you sit on this bench and have one, probably because it relaxes you and is a physical representation of the divide between work and home. It provides the most relief when the job has been done."

"I thought we weren't supposed to profile one another." You're hoping you don't sound too surprised at the way he's noticed your habits.

"Yeah, well, you make it a little too easy."

Not the expected response but you let it go, he's hardly going to be the face of professionalism given what's just happened.

"So are you going to sit down?"

You quickly assess the situation and figure it would be weirder for you carry on into the building when Hotch is clearly familiar with your patterns. "Uh, yeah." Uh, oh. 

Hotch picks up the envelope off the bench and you tentatively sit down, searching through your bag for a lighter. Once lit you drag on the cigarette and try your hardest not to blow the smoke in Hotch's direction. 

Wanting to break the awful silence you revert to your last proper conversation, "You know, I think I actually did better this time." A moment passes and Hotch doesn't respond. 

You look over and he is staring at the envelope in his hands and you swear you see a slight tremor to them.

The empath in you is fighting to be heard as you can't bear to see him struggling alone.

You speak softly and tentatively, trying to not sound too abrasive as you ask, "Do you want to talk about it?"

He sucks in his breath sharply and tenses his shoulders. The sun is beginning to set behind the skyline and it bathes the bench in muted orange light. 

He doesn't say anything so you continue, "Should you change your mind, I'm only a flight of stairs away." You stub your cigarette out and stand, pulling your keys from your pocket as you approach the door. As you're turning the key in the lock Hotch calls out your name.

"Y/N?" 

You turn to face him, one hand still on the door frame.

"Thank you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you're enjoying it!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've really had no self control with writing today so here's another part. I wanted to take a chapter to look at y/n's relationships with everyone in the bau because although this is about hotch and y/n, i also don't want to overlook the friendships (and yet half this chapter is about hotch oops.)

The next couple of weeks were relatively slow. Lots of paperwork and consultations but no active cases that the BAU were called in on. As you were still settling in, it had given you the opportunity to properly get to know your colleagues. 

You and Garcia had been thick as thieves from the minute she'd set eyes on you and you loved to wander over to her office whenever the day was particularly boring and have a bit of a gossip. She had started dating Kevin Lynch, a tech analyst from another department, and she'd had you in fits of giggles about their various escapades. Pen was not one to shy away from all the details.

You didn't spend an awful lot of time with Spencer, but there was a shared respect and understanding of one another. While your own above average intelligence was less obvious than his, (you couldn't spew out facts and statistics in the way he did), he had noticed it, admired it, and took the time to address it in the conversations you did have. While a lot of your education had been around psychology and anthropology, he had made note of your degree in English Literature, a passion that you both shared, leading to many a debate over various topics. 

Your favourite's to date had been: Was Ted Hughes deliberately obscuring Sylvia Plath's vision of _Ariel_ in his original edition? (You - Yes, obviously, Spencer - No, it's more complex than that.) Is _Paradise Lost_ the best literary depiction of Lucifer? (You - Yes, obviously, Spencer - No, it's more complex than that.) And perhaps the best one, do Shakespeare's sonnets prove that he was queer? (You - Yes, obviously, Spencer - Short answer, yes, Long answer, it's more complex than that.) 

You didn't want to read too far into it but you suspected that Spencer's own sexual identity was 'more complex than that'.

The few times Morgan had overheard these conversations he would roll his eyes and complain to Emily, always something along the lines of, "I knew two Doctors in the BAU would be a bad idea." You'd have to stifle a chuckle whenever you heard him say that and you couldn't deny the way it warmed your heart because you knew it came from a place of love. 

Morgan was like the big brother you never had. He teased you about _everything;_ your age, your accent, your illegible handwriting, your swearing, your smoking, the list was endless. It didn't matter though because you always had witty retorts to throw back at him and you were comfortable enough with each other to know that it was your way of showing affection for one another.

Rossi had been a bit of a hard nut to crack. You were intimidated by him and his experience and as a result, you kept your distance, figuring it was the best way to avoid his judgement. That was until he walked past your desk as you were eating lunch one day, his eyes darting to the tupperware of leftover pesto pasta from last night's dinner. 

"Ahh, pesto!" he had declared, "You can't go wrong with a good fresh pesto."

When he'd asked you how you'd made it and you'd sheepishly revealed it was shop bought, the look of pure horror that had crossed his face was nothing less than hilarious. 

After jokily scolding you for eating "jarred rubbish" he had gone off on a spiel about the beautiful simplicity of Italian cooking, promising to email you some of his own recipes to try, starting with "pesto alla genovese." You had no problem living off that "jarred rubbish" for the rest of your life, but when you'd gotten home that evening and seen his email of at least 10 different recipes, you couldn't help but have a soft spot for Rossi. 

The only way you could describe JJ was Wonder Woman. The number of case files she had to go through was infinite, constantly taking calls from various precincts and having to weigh up what needed to take priority and what didn't. You often thought that she had the hardest go of it, the rest of the team saw what was given to them, but she had to look through _everything_. You couldn't imagine having to do that yourself. 

It only made her more lovable that she was so warm and composed in spite of all she had to see on a daily basis. Much like with Penelope and her den, you always made sure to pop your head in to JJ's office most days so that she could see a friendly face.

Emily was someone who you were completely in awe of. She was everything you wanted to be, confident, assertive, fiery, independent. She had a silly side to her though, and you were seeing it more and more. The little drunken comments she'd made the first day you'd met her, you'd learnt, was very little to do with her being drunk and more to do with her brutal honesty. That being said she was always the first to crack a self-deprecating joke and simply put, being around her put you at ease. 

She was the type of person you would have been attracted to if you weren't already pining for someone else.

You had tried really hard to deny your feelings for a certain Unit Chief. In the end, you admitted it to yourself only because you were safe in the knowledge that it could never be reciprocated so it wasn't _that_ big of an issue. A harmless crush to occupy your imagination. 

Although Hotch never did knock on your door to talk about _it_ , you had been talking a lot more, especially when your paths crossed at home. You tried not to dwell on the fact that the man was used to having a wife around, a female presence that was now missing. A female presence that you suspected he was unconsciously filling through you. 

It started with the lifts to work.

It was a couple of days after the divorce papers had been served. You'd been deciding what to wear, while simultaneously attempting to chug a coffee that was still a little too hot to drink, when there was a knock at your door. 

In your haste to get to the door you'd managed to spill some of the coffee down yourself, staining your white blouse. 

"Fucking hell that's hot!" You exclaimed as you grappled with the front of your blouse, pulling the soaked material away from your chest.

Not really considering who could be knocking at 7:30 in the morning you pulled the door open to find Hotch standing there, stoic as ever, though there were the remnants of a smirk on his face, no doubt hearing your curse from behind the door. 

"Hotch! What are you doing here?" As you often did around him you went into panic mode, "Oh god, I didn't miss a meeting or a briefing or something did I?" The coffee was still dripping down your fingers and you hurriedly placed the mug down on the bookshelf by the door. 

Shaking your hand vigorously as if that would alleviate the pain you continue to mutter various expletives under your breath as you search around for your bag. 

Hotch remained in the doorway and cleared his throat, the lines at the corner of his mouth deepening into dimples as he watched you with amusement. 

"I was simply going to ask if you needed a ride to work."

You poke your head up from behind the kitchen counter. "Oh."

"Yes, oh." He repeats. 

"Right, well, yes, thank you, that would be most convenient."

He outright smirks at that, "Most convenient?"

"I mean, if it's not too much trouble, then yeah, that'd be great." You're confused by his parroting of your words back at you. "What's so funny?"

He waves a hand in front of his face as he shifts to lean against the doorframe. "It's nothing."

" _It's nothing,_ " you mimic. You know it's childish but you've just embarrassed yourself in about 3 different ways within 60 seconds so you're now on the defensive.

His eyes soften as he explains himself, "It's just, for someone so educated and intelligent, your choice of wording is often quite," he pauses to consider, "colourful." 

You were really going to need to work on the swearing.

"But then you come out with phrases like 'most convenient' and you're suddenly this prim and proper English lady. It's what should sound natural but it doesn't when a person knows how you really are."

You raise an eyebrow at that, "And how do you think I really am?"

And there is that smirk again, "Someone who swears until the air is blue, and rushes to get to imaginary meetings with a shirt covered in coffee." His eyes flicker down to your coffee-stained chest just for just a second and you can't help but blush. 

"Shit, I forgot about that." He lets out a low chuckle as you've inadvertently proven his point. 

You rush down the hall to your room calling over your shoulder, "I'll be two minutes!" as you strip out of the ruined blouse in search of a clean one.

That was the first time Hotch had driven you to work. And though that should've taught him not to bother in future, the next morning there was that same knock again, bang on 7:30. 

If you were an outsider looking in at the two of you, you might have thought there was something there. A spark. 

But you were painfully aware of the context of your situation. The only reason you got to spend this extra time with Hotch was because his wife had just left him. Because the place he called home was no longer open to him. He still loved Haley, he still yearned for his family. 

To him you were first and foremost, a colleague. A friend? Maybe. But something more? Never.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, I cannot believe there are over 500 hits on this, it is actually insane. I really hope you enjoyed this and any comments, suggestions or feedback are welcomed and encouraged!!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly can't help myself from writing i find it so therapeutic. This chapter covers the chester hardwick interview so a lot of it is verbatim from that scene including spencer's speech. I debated keeping it as canon for ages but i couldn't stop myself from replacing reid with y/n though i did give a nod to his importance (if that makes any sense.) Hope you enjoy it!

As time went on, you got into the swing of things. The fatigue that you had felt following cases became less prominent, a gentle ache that you were aware of but you were less bothered by. You felt comfortable within the team and you felt like they trusted your judgement. 

While things were going well at work, there was something decidedly off about your home life. You couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched. The car that you had seen the evening of Hotch and Haley's argument had reappeared in recent weeks. It's not that it was parked outside your apartment like before. Instead, it drove down the street, slowing outside the building before speeding off again. Obviously you didn't spend a whole lot of time in your apartment so you couldn't be sure this was only happening when you were home. But it still put you on edge. 

You'd thought about mentioning it to Hotch to see if he had picked up on it. And yet, in conversation, you could never bring yourself to. You knew why. Telling him about this and explaining why you thought it was linked to you would mean talking about _him_. The thought alone sent a shiver down your spine and so you kept it to yourself. 

You and Hotch spent perhaps a little too much time together. He had a tendency to knock on your door at odd hours between cases, usually under the guise of something work related but it would always end with a coffee and a chat or sometimes a scotch for him and a glass of wine for you. You could tell he was lonely.

It was because of this that it didn't surprise you to have him knocking at your door this evening.

You opened the door with a smile, "Hiya, looking for a night-cap?"

To say he looked stressed was an understatement. "Um, no, actually I need a favour."

You couldn't imagine what he could need from you but you nodded along, "Yeah, of course. What is it?"

"Reid and I are supposed to be interviewing Chester Hardwick tomorrow in Conneticut."

You already knew this, Reid had been buzzing about it all week.

"Reid has gotten food poisoning," you suspected that the 24 hour Indian takeaway that Reid lived off of was probably to blame.

"Right?"

"We would move the interview but he's due to be executed next week so it's really now or never." You were still failing to grasp what he was asking until he spelled it out for you. "Can you fill in for Reid?"

You do a double take. "Is that a joke or?"

Hotch huffed a little at that, "Does it look like I'm joking?"

From the stern expression on his face it was definitely not a joke. "Why me though?"

He answered your question with a question, "Why not you?"

You could think of a million reasons, primarily that you had never conducted an interview like this and there were 3 other members of the team far more experienced to be dealing with this kind of thing. As you looked at Hotch you could see he was agitated about something and you didn't fancy starting an argument that could lead to a whole lot of anger being misdirected at you.

"Okay, fine."

"Good." His response was short and cold, his mind clearly on other things. "Garcia will forward you the file on Hardwick so you can brush up on the facts of his case. It's a five hour drive to the prison and even though we're not conducting the interview until 4:30 we need to get there early to be briefed by the prison warden. I'll call for you at 8:30, don't be late."

It was moments like this that reminded you why your crush on Hotch was so meaningless. Sure, you two had gotten a lot closer in recent times but at the end of the day he was still your boss. Stony and aloof was all you were getting from him right now. It made you feel about 2 feet tall. 

The drive to Conneticut was painfully silent. You pretended to be engrossed in the file in your lap, but reading in a moving vehicle made you car sick so your eyes flittered across the pages unfocused. 

The only break from the monotony was Hotch's phone, buzzing on the dashboard every now and then. You hadn't wanted to be nosey but it was hard to ignore Haley's caller ID flashing up again and again. Hotch would glance down each time it went off but never made any attempt to answer, letting the phone buzz incessantly against the plastic surface. 

You assumed it was about the divorce papers. No wonder Hotch had been in a such a bad mood last night. 

Unfortunately for Hotch, Haley wasn't prepared to wait for him to answer his phone. Once we had arrived at the prison, Hotch got a call from JJ. From Hotch's replies about it being a 'personal matter' that he would handle later, you could only guess that Haley was trying to reach him through other people now. 

Now that you were being led to the interview room, you noticed how nervous you felt. After all, you were about to be locked in a room with a man who had stabbed over 20 women to death. Not even Hotch's presence could put you at ease.

He was clearly in the same agitated mentality as last night, and the phone call with JJ didn't help. You eyed him warily as you waited for Hardwick to be escorted in. If you didn't know better you would've thought he was a man looking to start a fight. 

Your stomach tightened a little bit when Hardwick entered, as though your body was on alert, subconsciously aware of the threat he posed. 

You began to answer the guard who was reiterating that his shackles should remain on but Hotch cut across you, "It won't be necessary. We're just going to talk, right Chester?" 

You can't put into words the discomfort you're currently experiencing. Both Hotch and Hardwick were clear alpha males and there would certainly be a fight for dominance once that door was sealed. A lump formed in your throat but you swallowed it, content with letting Hotch take the lead and you support him when needed. 

About half an hour had passed and you were getting no where with Hardwick. Every question you placed before him he either ignored, or outright lied. While you were trying to remain calm and professional, Hotch was getting more and more visibly frustrated. 

When Hardwick revealed he'd only agreed to the interview so as to smell the fresh air through the window, Hotch snapped. 

"Pack it up", he shot at you as he paced over to the door and rang the buzzer for the guard. 

You started shuffling the papers back into their various folders as Hotch rang the buzzer again, finding no response.

"It's 5:17."

Hotch spun around and faced Hardwick and you froze where you were, unsure of what was happening.

"Evening yard started at 5:00. Guard staff's outside with population. There won't be anyone to open that door for-" he paused, a cruel smirk spreading across his face, "at least 13 minutes."

You shot a worried look at Hotch and saw the moment he realised the danger the two of you were now in.

Hardwick approached you at the table, plucking a photograph of a woman's bloodied corpse from your hands. "And it took me less than five minutes to do this."

Throwing the picture back on the desk he continued, "While you were doing your research, maybe a question or two about security tones would have been a good idea," the smugness in his voice making the hairs on your arm stick up.

If Hotch was shaken, he didn't let it show, at least not to Hardwick, "I heard the tones."

"So you planned to be locked inside with me, with no guns or weapons?" He had started to circle the room, cracking his knuckles as he went.

"I won't need a gun." Your head whipped round to Hotch. What the hell was he saying? You slowly backed up against the wall, wanting as much distance between yourself and Hardwick as possible. 

"There's no way they're going to execute me next week. Not after I kill two FBI agents. You saved my life by coming here." Your stomach practically dropped as you understood his meaning. You'd be lying if you said you weren't terrified. 

"But unfortunately for you I'm not a five foot tall, 100 pound girl." How was Hotch remaining so calm? You watched as Hardwick's eyes moved from Hotch, to you. 

"She's close enough though." You could see the excitement in his eyes, he was getting off on your fear. You move your foot back but you're already against the wall, there was no where else to go.

"Don't look at her. Look at me." Hotch's voice was level and domineering, "I'm far more of a threat to you than her. You touch her, I kill you."

You dragged your focus from the murderous eyes of Hardwick back to Hotch where he had begun to shrug off his suit jacket. If you hadn't been scared for you life you would have enjoyed the display.

"All your life you've gone after victims who couldn't fight back. And the rest of the time you spent looking over your shoulder, worried about the knock on the door," he pulled his tie off, "scared that somebody like me would be on the other side waiting to put you away. At your core, you're a coward."

Hardwick had moved away from you and was now giving Hotch his full attention. 

The adrenaline pumping through you was making your mind go at a hundred miles an hour. This whole situation brought you back to your conversation with Gideon about 'the Footpath Killer'. You just had to distract him long enough for the guards to return. 

You tried to remember the little details of the case that Reid had mentioned throughout the week, anything that could give you the upperhand in what was unfolding. 

"Chester, do you want to know why you killed all those women?" You hear your voice but you don't even realise you're speaking aloud. 

"What?"

He backed down from where him and Hotch were squaring up in the corner so you put your skill of rambling to good use. "Earlier you said you wish you were different. I-I can tell you why you killed them, why you are what you are."

You paused, letting the words sink in, ensuring his interest was beyond piqued. 

"Your mother's bipolar and almost certainly an undifferentiated schizophrenic. Your father suffered severe shell shock in the war, what we now refer to as post-traumatic stress disorder. As far as I can tell he remained clinically depressed the rest of his life. Fifty-three percent of all serial killers have some form of mental illness in their family. In your case both your parents suffered from psychological disorders which they largely took out on you. They beat each other as much as they beat you, so violence became a natural expression of love. 

There's something called the hypothalamic region of the limbic system, it's the most primitive part of the brain. It wants what it wants, without conscience and without judgment. It's what makes babies cry when they're hungry, scream when they want affection, become enraged when a toy is taken away. In most children, a healthy relationship with their mother counters the hypothalamus and maps the child's brain to healthy emotional responses. Your hypothalamus never learned control; it still operates on that primitive level.

Pre-records indicate that you displayed the symptoms of satyriasis, you're obsessed with sex. Sex and love are cross-wired with pain in your head. Additionally, your hypothalamus won't allow you to stop seeking the desires that it wants, so you became a sexual sadist. No functioning sexual partner will ever willingly submit to the painful desires that you have. The only way you can serve them is by making a partner compliant, making sure they do exactly what you want them to do. And you ensure that by killing them. 

Earlier you said your victims never had a chance... I think you know deep down... it was you who never really had a chance." 

The door suddenly opened and you broke out of your trance. You're not entirely sure what you'd been saying, only that it was a amalgamation of all the little bits of information that you'd read or heard, stringing them together to give them some kind of coherency. 

Hotch left the room and you went to follow him but Hardwick called after you, "Is that true, I never had a chance?"

Without slowing your pace or turning to look at him you throw back, "I don't know, maybe."

You and Hotch didn't speak until you were back in the SUV, starting the long drive back to Quantico.

Hotch went first. "That was smart to get Hardwick to focus on himself long enough for the guards to come back."

You shrug, "Thank Spencer for banging on about the case all week. I was merely the messenger of his various observations."

Hotch shook his head. "You sell yourself short. That was impressive." He sighed, eyes focused on the road ahead, "And I'm sorry."

That was not what you had been expecting. "For what?"

"I antagonised the situation." Yep, you certainly did.

"No you didn't." Liar.

"Well I certainly didn't help." You turned to gaze out the window.

"No you certainly fucking didn't" you let out a snigger before realising what you've said. "Uh, sorry, Sir." When you look over to judge if he's annoyed, his expression hadn't changed from before, like he hadn't even registered what you said. 

You wonder if this is the beginning of four and a half hours of silence but Hotch starts to speak.

"So, Haley wants me to sign the divorce papers uncontested so nobody wastes money on lawyers." It was like he was carrying on your conversation from the evening on the bench, as if you'd just asked if he wanted to talk about it for the first time.

"And you don't want to?"

"What I want I'm not going to get." You think that's the end of the conversation but he carries on. "I don't know where it all went wrong. I look at her and nothing's changed for me. And it's not like since she first left we haven't..." he trails off, knowing you would understand what he meant from the argument you'd seen. 

He lets out another sigh. "This wasn't supposed to happen."

You run your eyes over him, nodding a little to his words. _This_ really wasn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! here we saw a little bit of protective hotch but obviously it was within a setting that it would be expected. Next chapter will delve into that a bit more as we start to actually find out more about y/n's past in london and the ex bf. 
> 
> Any comment, suggestions or thoughts feel free to leave below!!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo this chapter was easily the hardest one to write, so i apologise if it's absolute garbage. I'm not sure why it was so difficult but hey ho it's here now. 
> 
> I know the psycho ex bf is a bit of a cliche but i'd been planning on including it from the start so let's just go with it.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

"I'm sorry I haven't been calling much, it's just been crazy over here, Mum."

"That's okay, sweetheart," your mother soothed, "As long as you're taking care of yourself and enjoying your work then that's all your father and I care about."

"It's incredible, Mum. Obviously the cases are heavy and we can't always 'save the day' but I really feel like we're making a difference."

"As you should. You know how proud we are of you." You smile into the phone. "Have you found a new place yet?"

Ah. How do you explain to your mother that you hadn't even thought about moving because that would mean moving away from Hotch and losing those precious moments you got to see him out of work mode.

"Well, you know, this place has really grown on me. I spoke to the realtor about extending my lease indefinitely."

"Are you sure sweetheart? I would have thought you'd want to find somewhere yourself, do it up the way you like it?"

"Sure, but I mean I don't spend that much time in the apartment anyway, and this place is pretty nice as it is." You hope she doesn't press you any further on it, and anything else she might have said is loudly interrupted by the arrival of your dad.

"Is that my favourite FBI agent?"

You roll your eyes but can't help grinning, "Hey, Dad, how's it going?"

"We miss you!"

"I miss you guys too. I was just apologising to Mum for not calling enough-"

"All your Mom and I care about is that you're looking after numero uno." You couldn't with these two, they were the same mind in two bodies.

"Yeah, well, _numero uno_ has got to go to work."

"Hell yeah, go show those bad guys who's boss." You can hear your Mum giggling in the background

"Whatever you say, Dad, whatever you say. I'll call you guys next week. Love you."

You didn't have Hotch to drive you into work today because he and Rossi were consulting on a case in Boston. As you headed out the building you got that all too familiar feeling that you were being watched. You skimmed the street for the car but it wasn't there. The taxi pulled up and as you opened the door a figure caught your eye, walking further up the sidewalk away from you. You couldn't see their face but their stature was all too familiar. It couldn't be. Not here.

You squinted but the person was too far away, you couldn't be _sure_. No, it couldn't be him. You shake your head at your own paranoia before getting in to the cab and pulling the door shut. As the car started on the familiar drive into Quantico you found yourself unclenching your hands from the tight fists that had formed.

You were still anxious as the cab was arriving. As you exited the vehicle, passing the driver his money through the window you saw Penelope, also heading in to the building.

She spotted you and gave a wave but as you approached her expression changed from happiness to concern. "Are you alright, lovely? You look as though you've seen a ghost!"

You paint on a weak excuse for a smile as you try and quell her worries. "I'm fine, Pen, honestly."

She raises an eyebrow at you, "Now I may not be a profiler but even I can tell that's a lie. Come on, out with it."

You really weren't in the mood for this, "Penelope, it's nothing, can you please just drop it?"

You don't mean to snap at her and immediately feel bad when you see the hurt in her eyes. Regardless, she puts on a brave face and links her arm through yours. "Ever the woman of mystery." She didn't know the half of it.

The case concerned Keri Derzmond, a woman whose stalker had followed her from Atlanta to Maryland. The proximity of the case meant that the team was split, half at the police precinct and the other working out of the BAU offices. Unfortunately for you that meant Garcia was regularly checking up on you.

Ever since arriving at work you'd felt the comings on of a migraine and you were now struggling to focus, the shooting pain behind your left eye coming in regular, painful waves.

You hadn't had a migraine in nearly a year. Whenever you'd experienced them in the past it had always been caused by excessive stress. Your family and friends assumed it was because you were pushing yourself too hard with your academia but you knew better.

All the paranoia and anxiousness of recent weeks had clearly gotten the best of you and you were now dealing with the very real and unpleasant consequences.

You could barely keep your eyes open when Penelope knocked on your desk to catch your attention. The sound alone made you wince in pain.

"I just got off the phone with Hotch." She waits patiently for you to acknowledge her.

"Oh, cool. How are things going in Massachusetts?"

"Fine, fine, he said they'd be back tomorrow." She pauses for a second before speeding through the following words, "I may have also mentioned to him that you're under the weather and seeing as the case doesn't really require everyone he has ordered you go home and rest."

"You did what?"

"Please don't be mad, I can see you're in pain and I just wanted to help. I'm worried about you."

You sigh deeply. As much as you didn't want the team knowing there was something up, the idea of lying on your bed with your blackout curtains shut was exactly what your mind was craving.

"Well, an order is an order. It's okay Pen, I'm not mad." She breaks out in a smile, relief flooding her face. You could never stay mad at that smile. "But if you tell on me to Hotch again, he might inexplicably find out about you and Kevin fucking in your office."

"You wouldn't DARE!" Of course you're only kidding but it's fun to wind her up for a moment.

"Try me." And with that, you stood (albeit shakily), kissed Pen's cheek and headed out.

You got a call from Penelope the next morning to tell you you were still barred from the office.

"Pen, this is ridiculous, I'm feeling much better." You weren't even lying, you'd slept for a solid 11 hours last night and any residual migraine-y feelings were fading fast.

"Don't blame me, boss-man called to say you weren't to come in. He and Rossi are gonna be back today and he wants you to be fully rested before we start on a new case with everyone."

"I thought I said no more telling Hotch?"

"I didn't say a thing! He called _me_ to make sure you didn't try and come in today, I had nothing to do with this, I swear!" Perhaps your threat about Kevin hadn't come across as jokingly as you intended.

"Okay, but Pen, if I'm needed, please just tell me, don't go trying to clear it through Hotch."

She lets out a little laugh, "I'm more scared of Hotch than I am of you, my love. Nice try, though."

You spend the day mooching around the apartment, taking the extra time off to get a few loads of laundry done that you'd been putting off, and doing a general spring clean. As a result, you find yourself covered in a thin layer of dust and hop in the shower, giving your hair a wash while you're at it.

Once out, you wrap yourself in a bath robe, letting your damp hair hang around your shoulders to air dry. Feeling a million times better than you did this time yesterday, a glass of wine seems like a sensible way to the end night.

Just as you're settling on the sofa, glass in one hand, book in the other, there's a knock at the door. You instantly freeze. The clock on the wall states the time as 8:12. You doubt Hotch would be back by now and you can't think who else would be turning up unannounced. Your stomach starts to twist when there's a second knock.

Gathering yourself you tiptoe over to the door, glancing through the spyhole. When you see who it is, you swing the door open.

"For fucks sake, man, it's you- You gave me a fucking heart attack!"

"Someone's clearly feeling better," Hotch replies dryly, "Were you expecting someone else?"

"Uh, no, not exactly." You bit your lip, trying to come up with an excuse for your reaction that doesn't make you sound like an idiot.

While you stall, Hotch clears his throat, "So, can I come in?"

"Right, sure, yeah, come on in." You pull the robe a little tighter around you. As he passes the threshold you can already tell his eyes are on the glass of wine on the coffee table. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Actually yes, I'll take a glass of that if you've got some going."

As you busy yourself in the kitchenette, Hotch sits down on the left side of the sofa, same place he always does. He looks tired. You pass him the glass and sit opposite in the armchair.

"So, how was Boston?"

He takes a sip from his drink, "It was fine, pretty open and shut."

"What exactly were you consulting on?"

"A woman shot her husband while he was sleeping. Her lawyers claimed Battered Woman Syndrome and the prosecution wanted us to prove she was lying."

You held your breath, "And was she?"

"While no physical abuse occurred, she was clearly a victim of severe psychological abuse. We recommended she got probation and time served." He pauses, "He gaslighted not only her but both their children. She believed she was an awful wife, an awful mother, an awful person. He destroyed her. How can you do that to someone you supposedly love?"

If only he knew how much you understood her position.

"Sorry, I don't mean to rant at you." He took another long sip of the wine. "What about you, what happened yesterday?"

"It was nothing, really, I just got a migraine. I used to get them a lot and it just took it out of me a bit."

"Your medical file didn't say you were prone to migraines." Shit.

"Well, I never thought it was that serious so I didn't get it checked out. There was no need to cause a fuss about it." He looked at you suspiciously and you avoided his gaze. Neither of you spoke for a minute. 

Suddenly, he reached inside his jacket pocket, pulling out an envelope. "Before I forget, this was on the porch." He passes it to you and you gasp as you recognise the handwriting on the front. You immediately drop it, as if the paper had burnt you. 

Hotch's eyes follow the envelope as it falls to the ground, his face showing a mixture of confusion and concern. "What's going on, Y/N?"

You can feel the tears building in your eyes, the panic rising in your chest, the feeling of Hotch's gaze too much, too intrusive. 

"I think you should go, you know, you've had a long day and I want to get an early night and we should just do this another time-"

He cuts you off. "Stop that. Why did a letter, an unopened letter I might add, make you so upset?"

"I really don't need to explain myself to you." You get up, wiping a fallen tear from you cheek and head to open the door. As you pass Hotch he puts a hand out, catching your arm. It's not aggressive or invasive, his touch his gentle and light, you could easily pull your arm away if you wanted but it causes you to pause. 

Your back is facing him as he stands. 

"If you thought I hadn't noticed how jumpy you've been recently you're wrong. How whenever we leave for work you check the street like you're expecting to see someone. And now this." He lets your arm go and gently turns you to face him. "Something is clearly going on and I wanted to wait until you were ready to tell me about it but enough is enough. What are you so afraid of?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you enjoyed this and thank you so much for reading. The next chapter should be up probably by the end of today because it's a continuation from this chapter but i needed to split it in half so i didn't spend the whole day writing and avoiding work! 
> 
> Any comments or suggestions are greatly appreciated!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, finally explaining y/n's past with her ex bf. I know in the tags it says about past abuse but still TRIGGER WARNING - this chapter includes details of mental and physical abuse so if you find that triggering then please avoid this chapter.
> 
> Although it's a bit heavy I hope you still enjoy!

You slumped back into the armchair as Hotch retrieved the letter from the floor, placing it on the coffee table. Once seated he leant his forearms on his knees, hands grasped together, waiting for you to speak. 

"When I was 21 I met this guy. Marcus... Mark." Even saying his name aloud left a bitter taste on your tongue. 

"He introduced himself to me one day when I was in the library at uni. It turns out we'd both been doing our PhD's at the same time. According to him, he had wanted to ask me out for a while but chose to wait until we'd finished the course. Until he could give me his undivided attention." 

"What was he like?" You hadn't spoken for a moment and Hotch softly prompted you to continue.

"He was charming. Probably the most charming person I've ever met. Charismatic, intelligent, attractive. I mean, I thought he was pulling my leg when we first spoke. I couldn't see why someone like him would be interested in someone like me. It wasn't just the age thing-"

Hotch's question cut you off, "The age thing?"

"Um, yeah, he was 33 when we started dating."

"Is that not a little... old for you?"

You let out a nervous laugh at that. "I mean, I found it strange that he would want me because I was still pretty young but his age was never a deterrent for me." You glance down at the floor, "If anything it only added to his appeal."

"Go on. Please."

"The main thing I was worried about was that my parents would disapprove. But they didn't. They told me I'd always been a great judge of character so if I was happy then I should go for it." 

Looking back now, you wonder what would have happened if they'd discouraged you. 

"In the beginning it was wonderful. He was wonderful. My friends and family loved him, they said they'd never seen me so happy. And they were right- I felt complete with him. He felt the same. He told me all the time that we were meant for each other." Just saying the words make you feel nauseous.

"We moved in together fairly quickly. It must have been... 4 months after we first got together. He was working as a researcher in the university and me, well, I gave lectures in and around the London universities. I wasn't sure what I wanted to do yet and being the age I was, Mark would always tell me I had time to work it out, that making money wasn't an issue."

You could tell from the look on Hotch's face that he knew where this was going.

"Looking back now I should have seen what was happening. He paid most of the rent, when we went out for dinner or drinks he always paid for everything - whenever I tried to, he'd say it was nonsense and that he was just 'looking after his lady.' I was naive, I thought he was being romantic. I couldn't see how he was making me dependent on him."

You gulp back a sob that had been slowly rising in your throat. Hotch didn't say a word, he only waited for you to carry on.

"On our first anniversary, among other things, he bought me a phone. He paid the bill for it, he insisted it was a gift that I deserved. I had recently started working part time at a bookshop in Soho owned by a mate of mine, Robert. Mark didn't like him but I had insisted that I needed to be doing something more than the odd lecture, and this way I could be doing something I enjoyed.

I was working late one day and when I got home, Mark was sitting at the kitchen table. He looked... I don't even know how to describe it, _beyond_ angry. He had these papers on the table with random parts highlighted, papers that I would learn were my phone bill. He lost it, in a way that I'd never seen before, started yelling about how I was cheating on him, that'd I'd been texting some guy and was clearly fucking him behind his back. I tried to calm him down, explain that it was just Rob and it was texts to do with work but he was having none of it. 

He called me a whore, a slut, you name it, he said it. Spat in my face and repeatedly slammed his hand into the wall next to my head. But he never hit me. Never did anything that would leave visible damage. But when I looked into his eyes I could tell he wanted to.

I should have left then and there but I didn't. I was so in love with him that I was angry with myself for doing something to make him that upset, even if it wasn't what he thought. We didn't talk for the rest of the day but there was a bunch of roses on the bedside table when I woke up.

About a week after that he said he didn't want me to be working with Robert anymore. That he couldn't trust me to 'behave.' And me being a fucking stupid kid, I agreed to it. I mean, I would have done anything he said."

You look at Hotch for the first time but he isn't looking at you. He's staring at the wall behind you, his brow furrowed, a pained expression on his face.

"It was downhill from there really. We would go days, weeks even, being fine and then he would just explode out of no where. He would tell me I was ugly, I was stupid, that no one would ever love me, that I was so lucky that he was prepared to be with me. Of course now I know that it was his own insecurities, that he was scared I would leave him. But at the time I couldn't see that. I believed every rotten lie that came out of his mouth and every time I would beg his forgiveness, try and convince him of how much I loved him, how I couldn't live without him. 

In many ways I couldn't. He paid for the roof over my head. He paid for the food in the fridge. He slowly, slowly stopped me from seeing my friends, to the point that they gave up trying to see me. And although I still told myself that I loved him, I was terrified. All the time. It was exhausting. It's what started the migraines. The stress of living with him, being with him. 

I put on a brave face around my parents. Bless them, they couldn't see what was happening. He allowed me to speak with them just enough that they wouldn't worry. 

Towards the end I hardly ever left the flat, only going out when I was asked to give a lecture. Mark still let me do those because he knew exactly where I would be, how long I should be gone for, and god help me if I wasn't home by the time he was expecting. 

The final straw came right before our 3 year anniversary. He said he had a romantic evening planned, to dress up and 'make myself pretty.' I let myself get excited, he had allowed me to buy a new dress and I wanted to look perfect, for him. When I came out the bathroom, all dressed up with my hair and makeup done, he was lazing on the sofa in jeans and t-shirt. He started to laugh and sneer at me. _Did you really think I was going to take you out? You're pathetic, as if I'd want to be seen with someone as disgusting and vile as you, you stupid bitch._ And he just went on and on, the more I cried, the more satisfied he appeared. He backed me up against the wall, screaming these obscenities in my face. When I eventually tried to speak he responded by slapping me across the face. 

It was the first time he'd ever actually hit me. Spit on me? Yes. Yell at me until all I could hear was his voice going round and round in my mind even after he'd stopped? Definitely. But this? It was like a lightbulb switched on and I saw him for what he was for the first time. I knew I had to get out then, before I just became another statistic, another faceless woman beaten to death by her 'loving' boyfriend."

You're not sure how long you've been talking for. You don't even realise you've started crying until you look down and see the wet splotches, the robe's pink fabric turning dark where it's littered with your tears. 

"I left him that day. Didn't take anything with me, just left. I managed to contact a friend who lived nearby. I hadn't spoken to her for nearly 8 months but when I turned up on her doorstep I broke down, telling her every detail of the hell the last 3 years had been. 

I sort of bounced around various people's places. I didn't want to tell my parents what had happened. I was so embarrassed. I waited a week or two and then told them we'd broken up, that we'd just grown apart. I thought it was done with. But then the texts started, the calls, the emails. Every time I blocked a number, he'd call by a new one. Whenever I went out, it was like I could feel his eyes on me, like he was always just behind me. 

So, when I saw about the job at the BAU, I knew I had to go for it. By that point I had often fantasized about what I would do if Mark wasn't in the picture and I had kept coming back to this. I really wanted the job. And it didn't hurt that moving across the world seemed like the best way to get away from him."

You can hardly believe you've just said all that out loud. And to Hotch. You adjust yourself in the armchair, looking over at him trying to gage his reaction. 

Hotch slowly reached forward, picking the envelope up off the table. His hands were shaking, causing it to rustle. "And this?" He said, his voice low, controlled, _angry._ "This is from _him_?"

You're startled by the resentfulness of his tone. "Yeah, that's his handwriting. For the last month or so I haven't been able to shake the feeling that I'm being watched. A-And I keep seeing this car driving down the street. And yesterday I could have sworn I saw him, or at least someone who looked a lot like him." You shook your head, this letter proved it. There was no address on the letter, no stamp, only your name. It had been hand delivered. "No, it was him. He knows where I am."

You feel the sore tightness of your throat and make your way to the fridge, pulling a bottle of water out and downing half of it in one gulp. Hotch stayed where he was, turning the letter over and over in his hands. 

"You could have told me." Hotch spoke quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You walked over and sat next to him on the sofa, gently taking the envelope from him. "I didn't want you to pity me." He faces you, his soft brown eyes boring in to yours. "I didn't want you to look at me the way you are right now. Like I'm broken."

He lets out a sigh and turns away. "I could never think that. If anything I think you might be one of the strongest people I've ever met."

He clears his throat and straightens up, loosening the tie around his neck before pulling out his phone. "I'm going to need his full name, and any other details about him and his habits that you can remember."

"But why?"

"If he has been following you, as you suspect, we can check to see when he entered the country. Garcia can trace his paper trail, find out where he's staying."

"And then what?"

"Well if he's come here to get you, it's unlikely he has a visa allowing him to stay past the 90 day waiver so we can ensure he goes back to the UK. If he somehow has a work visa and plans to stay in the area, we need to file a restraining order as soon as possible."

This was all too much, especially following Keri Derzmond's case. "And what if the restraining order is denied?"

"Then he'll be dealt with some other way." You don't even want to ask what that means. "Until then, you really shouldn't be going out places alone."

You scoff at that, "Hotch, I still need to live my life. I can't be trapped in here, afraid to go to the grocery store or see people. He hasn't done anything yet, he might just want to scare me from afar."

"I wasn't suggesting you don't live your life. But this letter is contact between you and him and until something is done, I'd feel a lot better if you try and lay low. When we're away on cases you should be fine but while we're here, I'll drive you to and from work and if you're going to go out, then make sure someone knows where you are. You can text me, if needed."

You let out a sigh, as anxious as you've been, you really don't want to be babysat.

Hotch reaches over and lightly covers your hand with his. It's meant to be friendly, comforting, but it still makes you catch your breath.

"Please. For my piece of mind." The look in his eyes is so open and earnest that you can't help but nod. 

The stillness in the air is broken by Hotch's phone going off. You see Haley's face flash up on the screen and you mentally curse her timing.

Hotch quickly pulls his hand from yours, looking at the phone. You can tell he wants to answer it, besides, it could be an emergency. 

"I'm fine, Hotch. Answer it. It's late and I'll see you in the morning."

He sends you a look, something you don't quite recognise, a certain wistfulness that lasts a split second. "Text me his details and I'll forward it to Garcia. Don't worry, I won't tell her it's linked to you."

He's rushing now, making his way to the door, the phone still ringing in his hand. As he answers it and lifts it to his ear that strange look appears again, like he doesn't want to leave. 

But of course he does. With the sound of the door slamming behind him you're left alone, Mark's letter still unopened lying on the table. You pick it up and debate opening it but ultimately decide against it. There was nothing he could say that you wanted to hear. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, it honestly means the world to me!  
> I apologise for any errors there might be, as I've said before i just sit and write and i'm not really a big one for editing so anything that slipped through the cracks without me noticing i'm sorry  
> Any comments or suggestions are greatly appreciated!!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really have no self control when it comes to writing this, i have a million and one other things to do and yet here i am with another update oops. I hope you enjoy!!

When you and Hotch arrive in the bullpen the following morning, you see Penelope discreetly hand him a folder and judging by his tight-lipped expression, it was what she'd found on Marcus. 

He headed straight up to his office and you made your way over to Spencer's desk where he and Emily were looking over a photo.

"What's all this then?"

Pen rushed up behind you, her eyes glinting with excitement. "This image was taken straight from the yearbook of Garfield High, 1989."

Emily let out a groan, "Okay, who decided it was bully Emily day?"

You can't stop a small giggle from escaping when you see the picture of 17 year old Emily Prentiss, hair dyed black and back-combed within an inch of its life, face painted white with blue lipstick and massive black eyeliner. 

"No, no, Em, this is definitely a look. You should wear this more often." You put on the most serious face possible.

"Come on, this has got to be photoshopped or something, I never looked like that!"

"Oh no, pussycat, that's all you," replied Penelope, exchanging smiles between you and Reid. She glances at you and then pulls on your hand. "Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Emily looks up and you can see a question forming but Spencer interrupts before she has the chance, "Perhaps your lack of recognition stems from a dissociative fugue suffered in adolescence..."

Penelope, still holding on to your hand, leads you away from the pair and over to your desk, far enough away to be out of earshot.

"Who's Marcus Fisher?" You don't answer immediately so she carries on. "Hotch got me to make a file on the guy."

"Yeah, I know. He said he wouldn't tell you it was do to with me, though." She smiles softly at that.

"He didn't."

"Then how-?"

"Oh, come on. Hotch asks me to find some stuff out about a random guy and he expects me to only look at the last few months? Digging is quite literally what I do for a living. I only had to go back a year or two to find out he used to rent a place in London. Except there was another name on the lease with his." She looks at you pointedly. 

You sigh. You should have known it wouldn't take Pen long to put the dots together. "He's my ex. You know, the one I told you about a while ago."

"That doesn't really explain why Hotch needed a paper trail for him." No it didn't.

"It's a long story, Pen, and not one I fancy getting in to at 9 in the morning."

She regarded you, worry clouding her features. "I take it you know he's in Virginia?" 

"Yeah, I found out for sure yesterday. Hotch was with me, that's why he asked you to put together some stuff."

"Why was Hotch- You know what, that's besides the point. My main question is, are you safe? You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to but I can't work out why Hotch needs to know this stuff about his whereabouts unless you're in some kind of danger?"

You can't meet her eyes.

"Can you at least promise me that if you need help, you'll ask for it? You don't have to deal with stuff by yourself, you have us."

Her words warm your heart. "I promise. And I will explain it to you at some point. Just not here. Okay?"

She squeezes your hand, "Okay. Now about Hotch, why were you-"

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. "Brian Matloff has just woken from his coma. It seems the Blue Ridge strangler will be tried for his crimes after all." 

You shrugged at Penelope, heading to the roundtable with Spencer and Emily, leaving her question half finished. Saved by the bell... or the serial killer. 

You try and remain focused during the case, after all, it wasn't that often that you already had the unsub and had to prove it was him after the fact. Despite that, you could tell that you were distant, still trying to wrap your head around the events of the last few days. 

It didn't help that Hotch's plan of escorting you to and from work was made void almost immediately, with him and Spencer heading to Roanoke, you and the rest of the team staying put at the BAU offices. 

He had pulled you aside into his office before he left. 

"Do you have somewhere else you can stay until I get back?"

You gawp at him, "You can't be serious?"

"We don't have time to argue about this, do you have somewhere to go or not?"

"Hotch, I'm staying in my apartment. I'm not going to be driven out by fear, not again."

He pushes his fingers against his temples, visibly frustrated. "But why risk it? You've got to recognise the threat he poses?"

"Of course I do! Far better than you do." You jab a finger at his chest, equally as frustrated. "It's not like we live together, Hotch, it's just the same building. Even if you weren't going away, it's not like he's going to check if you're in or not just because we drive to work together. If he's coming for _me_ , he'll come straight to _me_."

Hotch loses his temper at that, "If you want to be reckless then do so, but I would have thought you were smarter than that," he snaps before storming out the office. You can't let him have the last word though so you go after him, not caring who can hear you.

"I'm not a child, Hotch, and you sure as hell can't treat me like one." He doesn't look back, just continues out the bullpen, Spencer following behind. 

You can now feel four sets of eyes on you and turn to see Morgan, Emily and JJ all staring up at you, shock plastered all over their faces. Rossi only looks on with amusement in his eyes.

Morgan is the first to speak, "Okay, is someone going to explain what the hell is going on?" 

You tried to convince the rest of the team that it was a work related dispute, that you were annoyed that Hotch had sent you home when you had your migraine. None of them looked like they fully believed you but they let it go. You hoped that no one would mention it to Pen because you didn't want her worrying any more that she already was. 

In the cab home that evening you think about calling Hotch and apologising for earlier. After all, him getting annoyed only showed you that he cared about you. Not in the way you wanted, but in a way that mattered nonetheless. 

Exiting the cab you head up the front steps of your building, phone in hand, ready to call him once you're inside. As you look through your bag for the keys, you feel the hairs on the back of your neck prick up, you can sense someone standing behind you. 

You know who it is before you even turn around. But that doesn't stop your breath catching in your throat when you turn and face him.

You can feel the blood draining from your face, the beads of sweat appearing across your forehead and in the palms of your hands. 

Marcus is standing at the top of the stairs, leaning against a beam. He seems bigger, taller than before, if that's even possible. Even with the distance between you it feels like he's towering over you, boxing you in, keeping you from escaping. Your phone begins ringing in your hand and you tear your eyes away from Marcus' for a split second, just long enough to register Hotch's name flashing on your phone. 

"Who's that now, I wonder? Anyone I should be worried about?" His voice hasn't changed at all. Still smooth and rich, venom disguised as honey. 

You try and speak but the words keep dying in your mouth, never making it to completion. You knew he had been watching you but seeing him, hearing him, even smelling him, it was as if you devolved back into the scared little girl he knew you as, unable to speak of fear of attack. 

He smirks, clearly enjoying the effect he is having on you. "Darling, don't you know it's rude to ignore a phone call?" You hear the threat in his words, he's not talking about now, he's talking about the hundreds, if not thousands of times that you had let the phone ring and ring rather than hear his voice.

He tuts at you, crossing his arms across his chest. "Answer the phone. I'm not going anywhere."

You can't help but do as he says, lifting the phone to your ear. "H-hello?"

You hear Hotch sigh on the other end of the call and you can just imagine the way he's rubbing his fingers against his thumb absent-mindedly. "Hi Y/N. I wanted to call and apologise about earlier. I don't want you to feel like I'm trying to control what you can and can't do."

You swallow hard and try and keep your voice level, "That's okay, I was about to call you too. Can you remember to bring some wine with that?" The last word catches in your throat and you hear Hotch's sharp intake of breath. He knows something is wrong.

"Where are you?"

"I'm just on the porch, about to go in to the building." Your eyes are still focused on Marcus, as though while you're looking at him he won't be able to come any closer.

"Are you alone?"

"No."

"Is it him?"

You try and stop the fear from crawling in to your voice, " _Yes_."

You hear Hotch's voice, a little more distant, giving instructions to someone. "Call Morgan now. No leave that, I said now, tell him to get over to Y/N's address and that it's urgent." There was a pause before, "I don't care what you tell him, Reid, just make sure he's going." 

Another pause and then he was talking to you again. "Morgan is on his way, he'll be there in 4 minutes. Can you keep him distracted until then?"

You blink rapidly, trying to dispel the tears forming in your eyes, "Yes, yeah I can do that."

Marcus was looking increasingly bored by the conversation and you knew you were going to have to hang up before he snapped. 

"I'll see you soon, Pen. Yeah okay my love, bye now," and you hang up on Hotch. 

"So, who was that?" 

Hearing Hotch's voice had calmed you a little and you were now able to speak back to him. "Penelope. A work colleague. She's coming over for dinner and wanted to know if she needed to bring anything." You hope it's enough to get him to back off but for good measure you add, "She'll be here soon."

"Ah. Well I wouldn't want to get in the way of your... plans." You can tell he doesn't believe you.

He starts walking towards you, taking his time, every step reminiscent of a predator stalking it's prey. When he's close enough that his breath fans down over your face, he stops, a cruel smile spreading over his face. "We'll just have to catch up another time." 

He leans down and kisses your cheek, his stubble scratching your face. On the opposite cheek you feel a tear begin to descend, trailing down your face.

"I'll see you soon, Darling. That's a promise." He moves away from you now, quickly clearing the steps and setting off down the street, leaving you cowering against the doorway. You're not sure how long you stand like that.

You hear the squeal of breaks and Morgan's car is pulling up outside the building. He rushes up to you, one hand on his holstered gun, looking around for any sign of a threat. 

"Y/N? What's going on? Are you okay, are you hurt?" You look at him for a moment, eyes filled with tears before collapsing into his arms, finally allowing yourself to cry. 

With one arm wrapped around you, he retrieves his phone from his pocket, dialling in a number and waiting. "Hotch? Yeah, I've got her. No, I don't think she's hurt but she's shaken up, man, she's shaken up bad. Yeah, okay. Okay. I'll have her call you in a bit."

You feel dazed, like you're in a dream or something and then suddenly you pull away from Morgan, staggering over to the steps before violently throwing up. 

You feel Morgan's hand on your back, waiting for you to straighten up. When you do, he folds you under his arm and pulls your keys from your bag with the other. "Let's get you inside."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and i hope you enjoyed it!! 
> 
> Any comments or suggestions are greatly appreciated!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cute little moment with morgan at the beginning. Obviously y/n wasn't around during the carl buford case but there's a little allusion to it in their chat. Also a slightly more meaningful moment with hotch. The slow burn is finally moving somewhere lol. Hope you enjoy!

It took a while for the tears to subside. You were sat on your sofa, blanket wrapped around your shoulders as Morgan stood in the kitchen. He'd told you he was going to make you a cup of tea but watching him now, floundering by the kettle, you could tell he wasn't entirely sure what he was doing. 

"There are teabags in the jar next to the toaster." You direct him, your voice hoarse.

He whips around, it's the first time you've spoken since he got there. He cracks a smile, "I got it, I got it, don't you worry."

You send him a small, grateful smile. He hasn't pushed you to explain what just happened and you appreciate his tactfulness. 

The drink he sets down in front of you a few minutes later is perhaps a distant cousin of a normal tea but you admire his efforts. "Thank you, Morgan. For everything."

The sofa sinks as he lowers himself down beside you, "Don't mention it, kiddo." 

The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes. You take a sip from the mug and try and disguise your reaction to what was essentially a mouthful of hot milky water. 

"So... Can I ask why I'm here?" You're not entirely sure how to respond. Despite working with Morgan for the last few months and having a banterous relationship at work, you were pretty sure this was the first time you'd ever been together outside of work without another team member. 

"It's cool if you don't want to talk about it."

"It's not that, it's just- well I was surprised Hotch got Spencer to call you and not the police."

"Ah, well that's simple. Average cop response time is about 10 minutes, Hotch would've known I'd get here sooner." He paused, mulling over what to say next. 

You figure there's no point trying to hide this from Morgan. Hotch knew, Spencer would have gathered the basics from whatever Hotch told him and Penelope already suspected what was happening.

"It was my ex-boyfriend. From back home. The relationship... wasn't the best." You let out a humourless laugh. "And by that I mean he was abusive, the whole thing was toxic. When I ended it he wasn't ready to let me go. I thought it was done with but he turned up here. He'd been watching me. And today he was waiting for me when I got home. If Hotch hadn't called when he did then-" You don't know how to finish the sentence. 

"But I don't want you to see me as some sort of victim or something. I got out and it's in the past. At least it was, I don't know anymore." You sigh.

"You know, everyone has a history. Everyone has things they'd like to forget. But look at you now, you're in the FBI, in one of the most sought after teams in the world. Look how far you've come. This asshole can never take that away from you. And he's gonna have to get through 6 FBI agents with guns before he can get to you." You look at him and it's as if he understands. Jokey, confident Morgan with his own demons. 

"Hotch wanted you to call him when you were up for it. I was going to call Garcia and ask if she would come round, would that be okay?"

"Yeah, sure, that would be nice." He smiles at you before heading for the door, putting the door on the latch.

"I'll just be in the hallway, give me a shout if you need me," he pulls the door after him and you hear him calling Penelope, "Hey, babygirl..." 

Pulling the blanket from around your shoulders you reach to grab your phone off the coffee table. You know Morgan isn't in the room but you head down to your bedroom anyway, leaving the mug of tea behind. 

Sitting on the edge of your bed you pull up Hotch's contact information and give yourself a second to compose yourself before hitting dial.

"Hotchner."

"Hey, Hotch, it's me."

"Are you alright?" His voice is deep and full of urgency. 

"I- I'm fine now."

"Did he hurt you? I swear if he's laid a finger on you-"

"No, no, nothing happened. I told him that Garcia was coming over for dinner and it seemed enough to get him to leave. He kissed me on the cheek and then told me he'd see me soon." You shiver just thinking about it.

"Did Morgan see him?"

"No, he was gone by the time he got here."

"And where's Morgan now?"

"He's just on the phone to Garcia, I think she's going to come round. He's been an angel."

"Is she going to stay with you tonight?" The rapid firing of Hotch's questions were making your head spin.

"I don't know Hotch, can you just slow down with the questions for a second."

You hear him inhale deeply and then exhale, not so much a sigh but more like a mechanism to calm himself down.

"I'm sorry. I can't help it... I just- I'm worried about you. I should have been there."

"Don't be silly. You're working on the case, you've got a million things to do. It's not your job to look after me."

He scoffs a bit at that, "Well, it sure feels like it sometimes."

"Hey! I am worth every bit of trouble I bring along for the ride."

You can practically hear his smile, "I think I'll be the judge of that."

There's a knock on your bedroom door and Morgan sticks his head around it, "Garcia's on her way. And she says she's bringing Mexican takeout."

"I've got to go, Hotch."

"We'll come up with a proper plan of action when I return. I haven't had the chance to go through what Garcia found yet but he'll be dealt with properly."

"Sounds good."

"Oh, and in the meantime, please stay somewhere else." You know it's not appropriate for him to say 'I told you so' but this is pretty much as close as he can get to it and you roll your eyes.

"Yes, Sir."

In the end, after an evening of takeout and a little too much drinking considering you were working an active case, you packed a bag and went to stay at Penelope's, sleeping on her sofa until Hotch returned. He and Spencer arrived back two days later, after Brian Matloff changed his plea to guilty. 

So far, there hadn't been any further communication from Mark and you hoped it would stay that way. But you knew eventually he'd turn up again. _I'll see you soon, Darling. That's a promise._

Everyone was clearing out for the evening, heading home and Penelope stopped by your desk. "You staying at mine again, or?" She cocked her head up to Hotch's office. When you'd told her about Mark, you also told her about how close you and Hotch had gotten, how you'd only be staying at hers until he was back and he could keep a 'neighborly' eye on you. 

You're pretty sure she knew you liked him, especially when you'd told her about how he'd come to your apartment some evenings after work for drinks and a chat. According to her that was a very un-Hotch-like thing to do and you had blushed, happy that those moments were something he chose to share with you, not some weird compulsion to do with maintaining professional rapport.

To her credit, she hadn't asked you outright yet and you were praying it stayed that way. Saying it aloud would make it too real. 

"To be honest Pen, I'm not sure. We haven't really had a chance to work out what we're going to do yet."

"We?" Shit.

You stammer out, "I mean, well obviously it's what _I_ will do but, you know, it doesn't hurt to get some advice." Well that didn't sound dumb at all. Fucking idiot.

"Mhmm, sure Honey, you go get him." So maybe she hadn't asked but she was definitely acting as though she had.

You give her your best _'you don't know what you're on about'_ face as you make your way up the stairs to Hotch's office. 

You knock lightly on the door, waiting a moment before opening it. Hotch is sat at his desk, papers spread across it and you see Mark's picture sticking out from under one of the pages. He's leaning his forehead against one hand, the other fiddling with a pen as he reads. 

"Hi." It's the only time since he's gotten back that the two of you have been alone. 

He looks up, his face a mask of concentration that immediately relaxes when he sees it's you. "Hi." He glances at his watch, "I thought you'd be gone by now."

"Yeah, well that's what I needed to talk to you about. Not that I don't love sleeping on Garcia's sofa or anything, but I wouldn't mind a night in my own bed. Seeing as you're back I thought it would be okay for me to come home?" You pose it as a question but you know what you want the answer to be. 

He picks up a page off the desk and holds it out to you. "Marcus Rogers has managed to get himself a job at University of Mary Washington as a lecturer. He has a H-1B visa, he can stay for at least 3 years, possibly 6 if his contract gets extended."

You take the piece of paper, scanning it, hoping to see something that discredits what Hotch has just said. "This is insanity. He doesn't even want to be a lecturer. Or at least he didn't when we were together. Research is what he did, not teaching."

"Mary Washington is only 25 minutes away by car. There's no reason for him not to stay in the area. Especially when the job is probably just a front to allow him to be close to you."

"So what are you saying? That because he's some psycho, I'm going to be the one that has to hide away?" You're trying to stay calm but you can feel the anger, the frustration boiling up inside you.

Hotch stands from behind the desk and circles it, reaching to take the paper from you. "No. Like I said before, we will file a restraining order against him, and we will make sure it goes through."

You plonk yourself down in the chair by the desk. "This is such bullshit."

"Y/N, look at me." You huff, keeping you eyes on the floor. And then there's his hand, fingers under your chin, gently directing your face upwards to his. "Look at me."

You look up from under your eyelashes at Hotch. He's leaning against the side of his desk, one hand still softly holding your chin, his eyes searching for yours. He speaks slowly, deliberately, his voice low and tender.

"I am not going to let him hurt you. I promise you, he will never hurt you again, not while I have a say in it."

But of course you and Hotch can never share a poignant moment without a phone going off. 

_RING RING_

You think you hear Hotch sigh as he drops his hand, moving back round the desk to grab his phone.

"Hotchner." Then his tone changes, it becomes more warm and familiar. Maybe it's Haley coming to ruin the day once again. "Hey. No, I'm actually still in the office." His eyes flit to you for a second. "I'm just getting some things- Oh-whoa. Hold on, hold on, hold on." 

He sits back down in his chair, "Start from the beginning. No we're all familiar with the case. When was the latest murder?" He carries on speaking as you silently get up from the chair and head for the door. 

Penelope is still waiting by your desk. "So, are you coming?"

"I don't think there's any point going home, Pen. New case just came in and from the sounds of it it's going to be a big one."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it and thank you so much for reading. Next chapter will be on the new york case and btec haley so thatll be fun to see how that goes down. Not sure when the next update will be because in writing this as a means of procrastination my real life work has built up big time oops. I would say it wont be for a couple of days but knowing me that's a lie so it'll be when it'll be.
> 
> Any comments or suggestions are greatly appreciated!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol of course i'm back with another update after saying it would be a while. Have I done the work i actually need to do? of course not! do i really care? not nearly as much as i should oops.
> 
> The new york episodes are obviously pretty intense with a lot happening so i was never going to be able to put it all in one but i hope the break kind of makes sense. Also most of the dialogue in the group parts is verbatim from the episode.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!! Also what the fuck how does this have over 1000 hits?! thank you so much for reading this, i really didn't think anyone would so thank you.

"How come I only get to travel with you guys like once every two years?"

"Trust me Mama, it can get old."

"Oh, right, like the way that spa treatments in 5 star hotels can get old."

You smile as you dump your bag down and slide onto the small sofa in the BAU jet, listening to Morgan and Emily wind up Penelope. Once in the air, Hotch begins the debrief. 

"He's killing roughly every two days, the Press are having a field day and it sounds like the mood on the street's getting pretty edgy."

"It's a joint FBI-NYPD taskforce?" Asks Rossi.

"Kate Joyner heads up the New York field office. She's running point on the case and called me directly." So this Kate was to thank for ruining the moment last night. "Kate's starting to butt heads with the lead detectives and wanted a fresh set of eyes."

Morgan spoke next, "Joyner, I know her. She's a Brit, right?" Oh great, bloody wonderful.

"Well, Dual citizenship- like Y/N," Hotch nods his head at you, "Kate's father is British and her mother's American. She was a big deal at Scotland Yard before coming to the bureau." You do your best not to pull a face at that, you already dislike her and you really didn't need Hotch drawing comparisons between the two of you.

"I hear she can be a little bit of a pain in the ass." 

"I didn't think so." Jealousy was not an emotion you were overly familiar with but right now you were feeling it tenfold.

Emily looked surprised, "You know her?"

"We liaised when she was still at Scotland Yard." You wonder what 'liaised' is code for. Just from the tone of his voice you can tell their relationship wasn't strictly professional.

"And she's good?" 

"I think we're lucky to have her." Fucking brilliant. 

You'd never been to New York before. Whenever you'd visited the US as a kid you always went to San Francisco where your Dad's family were, and other than the places you'd been on cases, you hadn't seen much of the country. You couldn't help but feel a little thrill of excitement when you saw the iconic skyline. 

Arriving at the field office, Hotch approaches a blonde woman, who looks eerily familiar. JJ speaks quietly under her breath, only loud enough for you and Pen to hear, "Is it just me or does she look exactly like Haley?" Nice to know his type is anyone who's a dead ringer for his ex-wife. 

Hotch makes the introductions and you make note of the way she addresses him as 'Aaron' rather than Hotch. You can feel Penelope's eyes on you, watching for your reaction and you know you're blushing, that you're visibly flustered.

Kate introduces the team to two of the NYPD detectives, neither of whom look particularly happy to see you, before putting a hand on Hotch's arm, "Can I have a word with you in private?"

Emily raises her eyebrows at you and JJ and Morgan whispers jokingly, "I don't think you're his favourite Brit anymore, kid" to which you elbow him back a touch too hard.

"I think you'll find I'm everyone's favourite, Brit or otherwise."

Spencer looks around, clearly confused, "Did I miss something? What's the joke?" 

JJ puts a hand on Spencer's shoulder and rubs it sympathetically, "We'll explain it to you when you're old enough."

There's another shooting not long after you arrive, bringing the Unsub's victim count to 6. Hotch hadn't left Kate's side since this morning and you were trying your hardest not to let it get to you. 

Back in the field office, you found out from Penelope that having compared the security footage of the various shootings, there were at least 2 Unsub's, if not more. There's a strange tension between Kate and Morgan, every suggestion he made, she shot him down. It seems as though they're about to have a full blown argument when Hotch cuts in, "Morgan, it's not your call."

The rest of the team exchange looks as Morgan excuses himself. It wasn't out of the ordinary for Hotch to pull ranks when needed but this was different, it wasn't about him, it was about backing Kate. Backing Kate when she was quite clearly in the wrong. 

You and the team travel to the hotel together (minus Morgan) and once in the foyer you see a man sat waiting, "Hey, JJ, isn't that-"

"Will." JJ addresses him, answering your question at the same time. A detective from New Orleans. You'd met him for the first time a couple of cases back but the rest of the team had worked with him before, and he and JJ had been seeing each other on the down low for over a year.

"I'm sorry for showing up like this, I know you're working." Bless him, he seemed like a good guy but you couldn't tell what he was saying half the time, his southern drawl blurring his words together. "I can't stand you being on this case and me not being here, not with what's going on."

Hotch's eyebrows knit together with concern, "Is there a problem?"

JJ and Will share a look before she turns around, facing all of you, clutching her bag strap nervously, "I'm pregnant."

"What the fuck? Oh my god, JJ, that's fucking amazing!" You can hear Hotch try and stifle his chuckle at your language.

"Congratulations, JJ!" Emily follows after you.

"We'll, uh, give you both some privacy," Hotch shakes Will's hand as he turns away. You can tell he's a little hurt that JJ didn't tell him sooner. You give JJ a quick hug before heading over to the lifts. Emily and Spencer are practically buzzing beside you. It was going to be a long day tomorrow so you all went off to your separate rooms to study the case and prepare to deliver the profile first thing. 

You've just come out of briefing some cops with Rossi and Spencer when Penelope calls in to say she's got eyes on a potential Unsub on a subway platform. Before you even have time to react, they shoot another person dead.

Morgan is furious, "We could've had that guy!"

Kate looks unimpressed, "Even if we were on that platform, odds are he would have moved on to somewhere more isolated."

Morgan is having none of it, "Maybe, but it was worth taking a shot," his volume rising with every word.

"We had every available man on the street-"

"And I suggested to you that you use this team."

Hotch interjects, "Second-guessing doesn't do us any good right now."

"Hotch, how am I supposed to look these cops in the eye and tell them that we're actually here to help them?"

From his expression, Hotch is about to lose his temper, "We're here to provide a profile, _that's_ what we're here to do."

Despite Hotch's tone, Morgan shows no signs of backing down, "I said to put us at express stops, 14th, 42nd, 59th - and that's exactly where they hit." He's right and you know you'd react the same way if you were in his position.

"It's not your place to have this discussion."

"My place?" 

"You need to back off." You glance round the room and everyone looks as uncomfortable as you feel.

"We got 7 bodies, man!"

"Which is exactly why we need to stay focused." 

That's when it takes an awfully awkward turn. "Focused?" Morgan takes a step closer to Hotch, "From where I'm standing, all your focus is on her." He doesn't look at her but you all know he's referring to Kate. You can't help but let out a little gasp and you hear the same coming from Emily behind you.

Hotch's face is like thunder. "Take a walk. Now."

As Morgan storms out you see Hotch's face fall a little, obviously embarrassed by the scene that's just been caused. As much as you like Hotch, he had that coming. 

Things are tense for the rest of the day but you find out later that a truce had been made between Morgan and Kate. He had apologised and she had agreed to use his plan the following day. 

It was late but you couldn't sleep. While the case had kept you preoccupied during the day you were now left alone with your thoughts and you couldn't get your mind to switch off. 

Hotch had been right about his observation that you didn't smoke while you were working but now that the thought had occurred to you, you knew you weren't getting to sleep without a cigarette. 

The night was surprisingly warm so you only grabbed a cardigan to throw over your vest top and you couldn't be bothered to change out of your pajama bottoms so you trudged down to the foyer as you were, ignoring any strange looks from other guests arriving in for the night. 

Once outside you leaned over a railing, balancing your pouch of tobacco on top of it as you rolled. Being the city that never sleeps there were still a large number of people around and you were more than happy to watch them, letting your mind clear and settle with every puff of the cigarette. 

"What are you still doing up?" Of course, it had to be Hotch.

You don't move, keeping your attention on the street. "I could ask you the same question."

He comes to stand beside you, leaning over the railing on his forearms, mirroring your position. "I couldn't sleep."

You smile wryly, "Join the club." You'd been in New York two days now and this was the most you'd spoken. You glance over at him and you observe the tenseness of his jaw, the vein in his neck pulsing, all indicators that he was overly stressed.

"I feel like you're not afraid to tell me the truth." The statement catches you off guard and you try not to choke on the smoke you've just inhaled. 

"Depends. Do you need to be held accountable for something?" You allow your voice to remain light and jokey but after the bust up with Morgan you both know what you're referring to. 

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I pride myself on my professionalism. I always have. But what Morgan said, I... I don't know, do you think I was unfair?"

You consider his words, trying to come up with a neutral response. "I understand why Morgan was frustrated. To use your words, 'this team works because we trust one another.' His instincts were right and he wasn't allowed to follow them. That being said, we're here by invitation and just because we think we know best doesn't mean we have free reign." You're satisfied with that, you don't think he could find issue with any of those points.

"Do you agree with what he said? About, you know, my focus being on Kate?" Oof. How to answer that one. 

"Honestly?"

"Honestly." Well he asked for it.

"It seemed to me that you were acting off a need to back her, rather than a need to back what made sense." To soften the blow you continue, "but of course you've worked with her before, you have a better understanding of the way she works. Maybe you saw something in her point of view that we couldn't."

His mouth curves up a little at that, not quite a smile, but close enough. "So, yes?"

"Well, if you want a yes or no answer, then yes."

"It wasn't intentional. I'd hate for you to think I made decisions on some kind of bias like that, you know, you and the team."

"Right, yeah, no, of course. I can't speak for the rest of them but I'm sure they know you don't think with your dick." The words tumble out without a second thought. Why the fuck did you just say that?

You don't know whether you should apologise or pretend like you hadn't said it. Hotch decides for you with a huff, "Eloquent as ever, I see." He doesn't sound angry per se, more a little put out.

You know your face must be bright red and you refuse to look over at him, sure you'd die from embarrassment. 

"Can we just forget I ever said that? I don't even know where that came from."

You sense he's getting a little amusement from the way you're now squirming and you don't want to give him the satisfaction. "If Morgan were here, he'd back me up," you grumble under your breath.

"Ah, well, unfortunately for you, he's not. He's probably fast asleep, as we should be too."

You've smoked the cigarette down to the filter so you have no excuse not to follow Hotch when he holds the door open for you.

Once in the mirrored lift, you see what an odd pair you look, him still in his work suit and you in your pajamas. He catches your eyes in the reflection and gives you a small smile, reassuring you that he's not holding your comment against you. 

Your rooms are at opposite ends of the hall but he walks you to your door anyway. When you pause outside he speaks. "Apparently I've gotten too used to our evening conversations. Seems like ages since we've done that."

You slide your key card through the lock, opening your door. "Well, anytime you want me to offend you again, I'll be here."

He laughs a little at that, quietly though so as not to disturb the others in the surrounding rooms. "I think I've come to expect that from you. Any time I need knocking down a peg or two you're the first port of call."

You look at each other for a second, neither one of you wanting to say goodnight just yet. 

Then there's the ping of the lift and you hear a group of people coming out, stumbling drunkenly into the corridor.

Hotch clears his throat, taking a step back, "I'll see you at 7 then?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll see you then."

He starts walking down the hall before turning with a smile, "And thanks again for your candor."

You roll your eyes, "Whatever, Hotchner, go to bed." As you shut the door behind you, you feel a little rush of excitement. Like that schoolgirl-y, butterflies in the stomach feeling. You're falling so hard. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and i hope you enjoyed it!!
> 
> Any comments or suggestions are very much welcomed and appreciated


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the mess that is this chapter, I knew there was a reason I stayed away from writing about cases!! Anywho here's the second half of the new york episodes, it's messy and probably quite hard to follow but it's as good as it's going to get unfortunately. Bit of tension, bit of drama, but hopefully in the next chapter or so we can dial it back a bit. I hope you enjoy!!

The next day was absolute chaos. Morgan's plan to be positioned at potential target areas seemed to be working when Emily and Detective Cooper were within two blocks of the 8th shooting but we didn't realise we were playing in to the Unsub's hands. 

After laying chase to the Unsub, Cooper was shot, Emily fatally wounding the shooter before any information could be gotten from him. The rest of the team arrived at the scene within minutes, yourself, JJ and Morgan arriving together from where you'd been stationed. 

Emily quickly recalled what happened and as she was describing the Unsub's demeanor all the pieces suddenly fell into place. 

She was clearly shaken and was still trying to wrap her head around what had just occurred, "I mean, what are the odds they would shoot someone, two blocks from where me and Cooper were standing?"

JJ looked confused, "You think he deliberately shot someone where he could be caught?"

"What if he did? What if they chose this spot because we were here?"

"What are you thinking?"

"He had no ID on him. He waited until we caught up to him. He was strangely calm, it's almost like suicide by cop."

"Why? Why would he do that?"

You ran it all through in your head, "Guys, there are multiple Unsub's, we already know this. They are faceless, they are fearless, they'd rather die than be taken and questioned. Choosing to die at the hand of police and FBI? To me that says they're terrorists, or at least the foot-soldiers for a larger terror cell." Behind you, you can hear Hotch and Rossi having a similar conversation.

"We need to get back to the field office, now."

Back in the office, Spencer runs through the geographical profile. "I think they're targeting points of entry. All the murders have taken place near a bridge or a tunnel."

JJ continues Spencer's point, "If bombs went off, emergency response would shut down any ability to get in or out of the city. It's like people would be trapped on the island."

The enormity of what you were faced with was setting in. Kate spoke first, "We need to hit the ground running."

Emily got up and started gathering her things, "I'm gonna go to the hospital. I'll check on Cooper and brief Detective Brustin."

Hotch then took charge, "Dave, will you go talk to the commissioner? Morgan, Y/N, you brief Homeland Security."

"JJ and I will talk to the Port Authority Police." Hotch nodded to Spencer's suggestion before continuing.

"Kate and I will go talk to the mayor and we'll meet back here as soon as possible." Morgan is already heading for the door and you run after him, throwing one look over your shoulder to Hotch but he's already deep in discussion with Spencer and JJ. 

You've only been driving for a couple of minutes when you feel the slightest tremor. You look out the window but you can't see anything.

"Morgan, did you feel that?"

He slams the brakes on before putting his hand on your headrest, looking over his shoulder as he puts the car in reverse. "Yes, I did."

Swinging the car around he flips the switch for the sirens before beginning to weave in and out of the traffic, heading back towards the Federal Plaza. 

His cell phone starts ringing and he slips it out his pocket, passing it to you where you place it on loudspeaker. "Yeah, we're still here."

It's Pen's voice that answers him, "Yes, you are. Thank god." You can hear the relief in her voice.

"We're almost back at the Federal Building, Pen, what the fuck is going on?"

"All right, we're going over the closed circuit footage right now."

"Who else have you checked on?"

"You two are the first, Rossi and Reid called me." 

"Okay, keep us on the line while you check on everyone else."

Relief floods through you as Emily's voice comes over the phone, "Is everyone alright?"

Pen answered her, "I've spoken to Rossi and Reid Morgan is on the line with Y/N-"

Morgan cuts across, "Emily, where are you?"

"I'm following Detective Brustin to one of the NYPD's critical incident command posts."

"Has anyone talked to JJ?" 

"She was headed back to the hotel." That must have been decided after you and Morgan had left.

Pen's voice is quiet, cautious, "Stay with me a minute. I'll dial her mobile."

You kick the dashboard in frustration as you hear JJ's voicemail play out. Then it stopped suddenly, cutting out mid-message. 

"What's happening, Pen?" But then the line bleeped, signal gone dead.

If it hadn't been Morgan's phone you would have chucked it. "I really don't like this Morgan."

"I'm not loving it either, kid."

You and Morgan pull up at a police barrier, the smoldering remains of an SUV just beyond it. 

Morgan pulls out his credentials, demanding to know who was in charge. He was pointed to a man shouting orders and he rushed up to him. "Captain Warner, I'm Agent Morgan, FBI. I'm looking for Agent Hotchner, Aaron Hotchner."

The man all but ignored him, not even looking at his badge, "Go back to the Federal Building. There are evac- Marshalling spots, check in there to make sure they know where you are."

Morgan continues to argue with the man and that's when you hear Hotch's voice, yelling, "Please, we're here!" Morgan moves towards the barrier, where 3 army officers turn their guns to him. You know it's reckless but while their attentions are focused on Morgan you make a run for it, ducking under the barrier and sprinting towards Hotch's voice. 

You're not sure what Morgan says to the captain but as you're approaching Hotch he's only a few seconds behind you. 

You stop a little short, realising that Hotch is crouching over the body of Kate, a river of blood trailing down the street sourced from her body. 

There's another man, a young guy and while you stare in shock, Morgan instructs him to get behind the barrier. 

He gets up but he doesn't go towards the barricade, instead turns and jogs away, further down the street. Something about it doesn't seem right. You can hear Hotch and Morgan talking about Kate, something about loss of blood and the need for an ambulance. Morgan's phone starts ringing and you fish it from out of your pocket.

"We're with Hotch and Kate, but we need an ambulance, we need one no-"

"The guy, the guy who was with Hotch, it's him, he's the bomber."

You look down the street to where the man has stopped, watching the four of you, "You're sure?"

Morgan looks up at you as you hang up. "Morgan it's him, he set off the bomb." He follows your eyes to where the man is still lurking. You nod at him and he sets off down the street, in pursuit as the man turns to flee.

You kneel down next to Hotch, taking Morgan's place. Before you can even ask what to do an ambulance turns the corner and pulls up, a paramedic jumping down. Hotch starts speaking directly to him, "She's got an arterial bleed in her back and I'm doing my best to hold it closed."

"Her pulse is weak and thready, I'm going to need your help okay?" They begin to work over Kate's body and you feel useless.

"Has the area been cleared?"

"No, but you were calling for help and I couldn't listen anymore." You're frozen, you don't know what to do to help.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Get behind the barricade, the area isn't safe yet." Hotch doesn't even look up as he orders you.

"No, I can help, let me help-"

"Y/N," Hotch looks up and his eyes are blazing, "I don't need to be worrying about you as well, now get behind that barricade or so help me I'll have you suspended for acting in contempt of your superiors."

You shakily get to your feet. You know it isn't personal but you still find yourself speechless. For once. All you can do is go back to the line of army officers and watch on helplessly as Hotch and the paramedic load Kate into the ambulance and drive away. 

Emily and Spencer pick you up from the blockade on the way to the hospital. During the drive they fill you in, that there have been no other attacks, that the bombing of Hotch and Kate's SUV was another diversion, that the real threat still hasn't been uncovered. 

When you arrive you're met by Morgan, Rossi and Hotch. As a team you run through the days events, trying to decipher anything that could tell you who the cell's real target was.

"The ambulance... the paramedic... we drove straight into a hospital with a bypass order on it."

You all exchange looks at Hotch's words. "What?"

You can see the cogs turning in his head, "The secret service has a bypass on this hospital."

"Secret service? Who are they protecting?"

"That doesn't matter. It's the ambulance, it's got to hold the bomb. I-I drove it straight in here, the hospital is their target. That paramedic was one of them, he's the real bomber."

You scan the room quickly. "Where's Morgan?"

Everyone turns to look but he's gone. "He must have gone for the ambulance. Y/N, Rossi, tell the secret service that whoever they're protecting needs to be removed from the hospital, as soon as possible. Emily, Reid, with me." You section off, Hotch and the others heading for the stairs down to the basement leaving you and Rossi.

You get the call from Penelope less than 10 minutes later to say that Morgan had successfully driven the ambulance to a remote location, managing to get out seconds before the explosion. 

It should be an occasion of celebration, a incredibly sophisticated terror attack thwarted, but as you reconvene at the field office and realise that Hotch is missing, there's a phone call from the hospital to say that Kate Joyner has died in surgery. 

You fly back to Quantico the next day. You haven't seen Hotch since the hospital and because of the damage to his hearing caused by the blast he and Morgan are driving back as he can't fly.

The mood in the jet is somber. You can tell that everyone is looking forward to being back home after the intensity of the last few days but the thought of home prompts more issues than it solves. Penelope moves from where she's been chatting with JJ at the table into the seat opposite you. 

"You know, mi casa es tu casa."

You give her a weary smile. "Is it that obvious that that's what I'm thinking about?"

"Just because of all the craziness in New York doesn't mean I've forgotten the craziness that still needs to be dealt with at home."

"Pen, I think I'm just going to get a hotel room or something, I mean, you probably want to see Kevin and I don't want to ruin that. Two's a party, three's a crowd."

She practically tuts at that. "My girls always come before my men."

"I appreciate the sentiment, I really do Pen, but I'm really don't mind staying in a hotel. I'll be content that you're happy doing whatever weird shit you and Kevin get up to." 

You want her to laugh but her expression stays serious. "You call me if you change your mind, though? I don't think any of us feel like being alone after that."

"I'm going to head to the office for a bit when we get back anyway. Get ahead of the paperwork and that." You hope it's enough to reassure her. 

She reaches forward affectionately grabbing your cheeks, "Well don't go working too hard."

You roll your eyes, "Me? Never."

You were lying a little when you said you were going to do paperwork. Sure you glance over the pile of forms and reports that accompany any case but you mainly just sit in your chair, spinning it slightly, trying to muddle through the cacophony of thoughts in your head. 

You're not sure how much time passes but you're suddenly brought out of your thoughts by Morgan's hands on your shoulders, making you jump so much you practically butt heads with him. 

He bursts out laughing and you slap his arm, "You fucking asshole!" It only makes him laugh harder. 

"Why are you here anyway, kid? Aren't you supposed to be staying with Garcia?"

"I thought I'd give her a break from babysitting duties, I'm going to book a hotel room when I'm done here," you wave your hand across the various pages, practically untouched since you'd sat down. "Anyway why are you here?"

"Hotch wanted to stop by and grab some things before going home." He tilts his head to where Hotch is standing by the door, you hadn't even noticed him.

"Um, actually Morgan, I'm going to do some work before calling it a day."

Morgan pulls a face at that, "Are you kidding me, man? You've just been in an explosion, I'm pretty sure that would grant you an extension on the deadlines, even from Strauss."

"No, I really do need to be getting on with some stuff. I promise I won't drive home, I'll get a cab."

"Well, I know that's an argument I'm never going to win so I will say goodnight and be on my way." Morgan leans down and plants a swift kiss to the top of your head, before shaking hands with Hotch and heading to the elevator. 

You spin your chair round to face Hotch, "I know you're a workaholic and all but this is a little excessive don't you think?" In truth you're finding it difficult to look at him with his face all covered in small cuts and scabs.

He walks, well, he limps over to desk across from you, pulling out the chair and practically falling down in to it. 

"I wasn't sure where else to go. I called Haley on the drive back to see if I could see Jack but he would've been in bed by the time we were back. She didn't want me disturbing him." He sighs and rubs his eyes. "But I also didn't want to go back to my apartment. Didn't want to be alone with just my thoughts for company." You certainly knew how that felt. "At least here, there's always someone around."

Normally you would make some flippant remark at that, something inappropriate and suggestive but it really wasn't the time and for once your tongue didn't run away from you.

Instead you find yourself saying: "I'm really sorry, Hotch. About Kate."

He doesn't meet your eyes, only nods his head slightly in acknowledgment. 

You sit in silence for a few minutes. It's getting late you can feel how exhausted you are. Tired as you are, you're still with it enough to know you shouldn't be out this late, not with Marcus unaccounted for. 

"I'm gonna book a hotel room and then call a cab, do you want me to get it to drop you off on the way?"

He looks at you surprised. "Oh, I thought that was just a line to get Morgan and Garcia off your back. I guess I assumed that we'd just go back together now, I mean, that's why you were staying at Garcia's in the first place."

"Hah, yeah, well, Marcus is still out there and you have enough to worry about without adding me to the list." You hope that doesn't sound like you're referring to what he said after the explosion. 

If he makes the connection, he doesn't mention it. "I suppose it would be a way of killing two birds with one stone."

You don't follow. "What do you mean?"

"It's like I said. I don't particularly feel like being alone right now. And you need someone in the building to keep an eye out. We can have a night cap? Then once you've gone to bed I can lock up your place." You're beginning to wonder if the doctors overlooked Hotch having a concussion because you were failing to see where this logic was coming from. 

The lack of common sense melted to nothingness when you looked into his eyes and saw the hurt in them. You had more care to stay than will to go. 

"Alright." You agree softly. "Let's do it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did i quote romeo and juliet at the end of this? yes, yes i did and I have no regrets. Tbh this chapter felt like a few steps backwards for hotch and her but we're going to power on and get the good feels next chapter. I know i include about the ear damage in this chapter but idk how much it'll actually come up in the future, we shall have to see how it goes. 
> 
> If you made it through that catastrophic chapter then i applaud you because it was a bitch to write.
> 
> I hope you still enjoyed it though and thank you so much for reading!


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